Butterfly heart
by The hazel-eyed bookworm
Summary: AU. Sequel to I promise. "I'll do anything if that means you will be safe. If I must become evil, then that's something I will do."
1. As the world was ending

**Welcome, my dear readers, to the third and final story in the Whiteverse! Your dutiful storyteller asks you to provide your grain of sand, please.**

 **Prologue: As the world was ending.**

* * *

The end of their world came quietly. Despite predictions made of hell on Earth and wanton destruction the end of the world came surprisingly orderly.

There were rumors of course, for even madmen gossip at the best of times. Because there was brilliance in plans carried to fruition; jagged and biting brilliance though it might be, and before it was over many would bleed because of it.

The end of the world came at the beginning of summer, the green leaves marking the first hint of change upon the wind.

The end of the world wasn't announced with a bang and clamor. Rather the end of the world was contained in the span of a second, the time it took for the ground to shake once again.

The MEGTAF agent walked once more and knew the end of the world was walking near his door; politely arrogant, knowing it could not be denied and all the same sweeping his land, taking with it a world that would soon be forgotten.

And finally when he first saw the horrible shadows of crooked smiles and burning eyes, when he saw the specter of a creature never to be forgotten in the horizon he knew the end of the world had come.

And they say the lucky ones died on that field though none that lost their life would ever quite see it that way.

It was largely a secret in some rather large circles that the world could end so horribly orderly. For a vast majority in the town of Bellview the world ending wasn't in the realm of possibility. They were of course rightly concerned when horrible stories drifted from neighbor to neighbor, unnatural tales never before made real.

It couldn't be true, you see. It wasn't possible because children tales weren't supposed to be corporeal, weren't supposed to tear your house down, weren't supposed to make you hurt and bleed and cry and pray to useless deities. Because it wasn't supposed to be like this; life wasn't supposed to hit you and kick you and curse you and torture you. And as the world ended all you would really ask was, "Why?"

And in a fleeing car, a man and a woman watched their remaining son closely and wondered what the new world would offer.

Because after all, it was a new world.

* * *

 **This is it for now. Please review, I'll give you a cookie!**

 **Your dutiful storyteller,**

 **H. E. B.**


	2. Warmth

_("Right now, I'm looking for a permanent way to end all of this.")_

Your suffering? The threat of death?

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _("You know? I've been thinking of something, lately . . . " )_

Of what?

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _("That maybe the idea of dying when everyone's safe isn't such a bad one after all.")_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **Then you will have to stay alive long enough for that to happen, will you not?**_

* * *

Kajeigh stood at the meeting room. After having arrived to the lair, and a few days of rest, he was to give information about MEGTAF, but by the looks of it they had a lot to discuss. The peninsula in Asia had already been conquered, and they were waiting for a meeting with the leader of the clan on the West. Right now, however, the matter of discussion was something Kajeigh could add something upon:

"What do you expect me to do, Belloc?" Astaroth paced back and forth. "Do you want the boy to be removed from the Overworld? Have the army lock him up?"

He gestured wildly to the group of Kaiju scattered around.

"Does the prince know of our plans?" A gruff voice interrupted.

"I believe so, Rashta." Belloc nodded solemnly. "However, as I stated before. I do not think Duncan has any recollection of specific events."

Astaroth lost his composure. "The boy knows? You can hardly allow him to remain unchecked now. If MEGTAF got hold of this information-"

He broke off the sentence with a growl as he paced. Where had Astaroth learned the art of subtlety was anyone's guess.

"Be quiet, Astaroth." Belloc hissed. "They can be used to our advantage, if done correctly."

"You intend for them to find out?" Abaddon seethed. "To tell everyone that your heir has betrayed us all? Are you mad?"

"He did what he was supposed to do at the time, sir," Kajeigh interrupted, tail twitching. "He was stalling. He had agreed to our escape plan. Time was vital for both him and his bonded sibling."

"Ah, yes, the other child. Must we assume the rumors to be true?"

"I know not why those outrageous rumors seem to be so widely believed, but I assure you I have only fathered one child." Belloc said curtly. "I would deeply appreciate if none of you paid any attention to the rumors circling around."

 _Of course you would ask to ignore it all,_ Kajeigh thought with a sigh.

"The female is, indeed, bonded to him, leeching from his power when her own reserves are scarce. What I tried to do is to separate him from her influence as a temporary solution. Now, if we are to separate Duncan from his supposed parasitic connection, you will need public support." Belloc explained.

"Now hold just one minute Belloc." Astaroth roared. "You never mentioned about removing the prince's Bonded from him? Surely you do realize that functioning alone would be extremely difficult, with how long they have been together." Such Bonds were rare, and in Astaroth's opinion, the less they meddled with it, the better.

"No." Another voice interrupted. "I will not authorize the use of that spell on a child, not under any circumstance."

Belloc nodded his head, holding up his hands, though Kajeigh noticed the slight twitch of his tail. "I would not expect you to, Rashta..."

"What then, Belloc?" Rashta asked sharply. "While Duncan and the girl are connected there is little we can do. Particularly if you say that they won't divulge anymore. They are only children"

"You are being naive Rashta." Furei interrupted. "We cannot assume the boy will not tell."

Kaleigh coughed lightly, drawing the attention away from their discussion.

"MEGTAF was almost ahead of you in that department."

"Now, I know you were imprisoned by MEGTAF, but-" Furei growled at the previously named 19.

The youngest Kaiju there only smiled, red eyes twinkling as he spoke.

"The silver guillotine."

Furei's face froze in an instant. Rashta leaned back, surveying Belloc carefully.

"That instrument is hidden deep in MEGTAF quarters." Kajeigh commented quietly "No one should know about it, but the guards liked to gossip. That is why we needed hurry with the escape plan. They'd take all the information they could from them, and then dispose of a dangerous threat."

"I'm sorry sir?" A young Kaiju with white eyes asked. "The silver guillotine?"

"Illea, she's new to my team." Abaddon nodded, before sighing heavily.

"The instrument comprises of two separate metal cages" Kajeigh explained, eyes downcast. "The creature is placed in one, their Bonded in the other." His red eyes shifted, disturbed.

"A special blade rests in-between the two cages, it is sharp and can cut through the connection between both."

"What-?" Illea breathed horrified.

"It severs the connection. They will no longer belong to the other." Kajeigh offered. "They will be two separate entities, and in this particular case the prince will no longer be attached to the human child."

"It is a disgusting contraption" Rashta stated with a frosty look towards Belloc. "And one that should never be used on anyone, let alone a child."

Landon too was unsettled as Furei's colleagues agreed.

"Don't you worry, we destroyed it while we were trying to flee." Kajeigh spoke coolly. "Use a spell if you want to destroy a connection, at least then they are unlikely to survive. It is far kinder than that contraption."

"Wait?" Illea gasped, looking around the group in horror. "You mean, the person will live even with their other separated?"

Belloc nodded. "No matter how close the victim would be to the other, they would never be the same again. They would be able to touch, but they would never be able to feel that comfort, the completeness that once belonged to them."

"The girl-child is a Relic." Kajeigh commented, effectively catching the attention of everyone else in the room. "I have been a witness of them fighting, and I would say they both would make great allies."

"Why have they not joined us, then?" Rashta asked, dull pink eyes narrowing. Kajeigh grinned, openly expressing his delight for what he was about to say. He did approve of the King's…unconventional methods, but he knew that the others might not. It would be best if they all were told there, with legitimate sources of information, than the rumors that were flying around like a flock of birds.

"The siblings do not feel any loyalty, neither to the humans or the Kaiju. Only to a group of very few humans, truly. They do not wish to participate in the upcoming War, instead only attacking after being attacked, be it by humans or Kaiju. Their distrust of humans is more than understandable, given what MEGTAF intended to do…" he momentarily flashed back to when they were escaping, the boy-prince only aided his sibling.

He never helped them.

And yet, he never attacked them, either.

He just...

 _Lingered._

 _ **—**_

( _Neutrals,_ Jaio had once snapped in agonised frustration. _Always such procrastinators when it comes to doing what is right._ He did not complain about that. He never complained about _anything_ to do with 41 out loud.

Well. Give him **_some_** credit.

At least he was _honest_ with him, right? )

The law system, Kajeigh was realizing, was full of holes. Slavery in the Kaiju culture was and wasn't a crime – it depended if the slave in question was a member of their own kind or something else. Prostitution didn't even exist; forgery wasn't even mentioned for some reason, but fraternizing with the enemy got more punishment that he cared to admit. Impersonation was also never mentioned – which made sense, with the heightened senses of the individuals only getting you a slap on the wrist. Kidnapping was illegal, but barely touched – and it was usually just over looked, if the kidnap victim was released with no harm done.

How no one had exploited the ever loving _hell_ out of those loopholes before the current King, he had no idea.

"Regarding Kaiju, however," Kajeigh grinned fully now. "There is a more, ah, _personal_ reason…"

* * *

Marie White was a lot of things, but a fool was not one of them. All three of her children had gone to school in one of the last days. Only two had come home, and soon after only one remained. Her eldest. She had an inkling of what might have happened, their teacher had been a MEGTAF agent for Christ's sake. But even so, a week passed and no amount of threats or begs or bribes or half-finished, imaginary charges from kidnapping –she was a lawyer after all- would make him reveal a thing.

And then, and then they received the news. There would be a Kaiju attack in little more than a day. Those cameras that organization had scattered truly helped.

Two instincts had battled within her. The first said to stay until the last possible moment, to wait until her two remaining children came back. It wouldn't be the first time one of her own managed to pull off an impressive escape.

The other, more rational part of her brain, reminded her of her little unborn kid. Of the fact she should call Erica Vasques and tell her to go pick Ken Rogers up before they left. And phone Phineas and Barb and Jasper, just in case they didn't hear the news.

She hid when Barnes came to her office. She just turned the computer on, and she didn't cry. She talked to her clients and worked on the problems of making her clients get their way.

She was in the middle of doing the written process of a divorce when they passed her office. She was still in the middle of it when they left.

Marie found out they were there later, talking to her colleagues.

* * *

Somewhere in between dozing off and being awake, Marie had lamented the fact she had no relatives that could help her fleeing family –it was not fault of their own, really-. Though, she was feeling a little smug herself, a little proud of the sinking feeling in her gut that had been so rare, that proved she had had a small part of the gift her family had held.

Marie remembered, her mother Gretel was a superstitious woman and was extraordinarily old before her death, so because of this she acted a bit strange at times; but, she was no less wise.

Marie herself had very few acts of teleportation in her childhood, something that only had happened to her once or twice in her lifetime. Gretel, on the other hand...

There were nights when she'd claim to have a real premonition. She'd wake abruptly in a cold sweat upon her bed mat with the image of glowing green eyes still swimming in her mind. And on nights such as those, she'd force her brittle bones to carry her out of bed, picking up the phone and calling her only daughter, foretelling things that would be happening from afar.

In contrast of her ancestors, her Lea had always been a tad different...harmless and playful in manner, yes, although still quite different.

 _Outcast_ , unkind words said, but to her, _wistful dreamer_ was a phrase probably more suitable.

It wouldn't be a having a life at all if she'd continue living in only her fantasies, letting her thoughts constantly drift away to far-off places where her body and flesh could not follow her. She needed to stay grounded. Or that would be the case if Marie didn't know how futile of a task that was.

But the first sign that made all them know something was wrong, was that night all of ten years ago, when the White family welcomed the sun-haired, flame-skinned, innocent-eyed boy in their midst.

Her Ma Gretel was the first to know something was wrong.

And later that night she openly informed both Julian and Marie of the green shining eyes flashing in her dreams, which had caused her to wake so suddenly like that.

According to her, there was a demon in their home.

Julian had paid her no mind at the time, attentive as he was to make his new son adjust to them, and make themselves adjust to him. The same words got Marie to think, and she delved deeper on the stories her own mother had told her as a child, gathered information. Nonetheless, they loved him all the same.

"Even with his supposed nature, he's a little sweetheart," she had told her mother a year later, fussing over her newborn daughter. Marie had begun to lose faith in her mother's words, the boy her own mother spoke so lowly of was her son, be it by blood or not. Valentine had never been his Yaya's favorite grandkid, though both the matriarchs had sensed there was a connection between the youngest children, however faint it was. "...You don't trust him at all, Ma?"

"With Lea's very soul? No I don't." Gretel replied smoothly in return.

Her mother had died peacefully in her sleep a whole year later.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious. So really, the thing was...Valentine was always a wild card. He was the product of two species which would never, in theory, coexist, so he played the part well, being the one of her children who would act darker than the rest. He was a living embodiment of duality, him being angry enough would always make the mother feel she was looking at a different child, and he wouldn't be tamed. Making deals with demons like that was almost testing fate. It could bind a mortal in ways that was not always fully understood.

Anyhow, Marie knew that if Lea was dipping her toes into that sort of power for as long as she had already, it was honestly beyond theirs to change it. She was chosen by her 'brother'.

Then again, Lea adored Valentine as her dearest friend, and the boy had grown equally attached to her in the end. All demons by nature were extremely protective over their domain, and over those associated with it.

* * *

Darren was outside the meeting room, watching the lava burble and spurt, and trying his best not to cry. The attack had been nearly a week ago, and he was only noticed of it right now.

He was cold, despite the spitting lava.

The town he had come to think as his own surely was destroyed by now. Were his friends okay? Had Lea managed to get Vale out? Had she?

Should _he_ try to get out?

This was the only place in the lair where you could see the sky. If you placed your back against the wall of this dank cavern, heedless to the stones scraping against your spine, and turned up your head just so, you would glimpse it – that thin blue crescent at the outer edge of the cave mouth above. That merest hint of color. It would disappear completely at night. It would never be enough to see the stars.

He opened his eyes, and his blood turned to ice.

The King was there. And along with him, there were the Kaiju that MEGTAF had captured long ago –the numbers on their wrists gave them away- the _state_ they were in, dear _stars_... but why were they there? Was it for a report?

At the very least, he now knew the answer to one of his questions. He Torri-ed away quickly.

God. He'd never thought he'd ever see that. He never wanted to see that.

He wanted this to be over. He wanted to go _home,_ to his uncle and his house and his family, and he _couldn't,_ and it was because of the goddamn demon pulling his best friend around on strings.

Though he did not know what would await him there, it was high time he stopped being still and started moving.

He was _out_ of that place.

* * *

Going to visit his sister's house after they had registered in the hotel had been practically a demand in Rachel's part, but Julian couldn't blame her in the slightest. He would have been worried sick too if the roles were reversed. He allowed himself a smile as he looked at the woman two years her senior, all dark hair and green eyes.

He had missed her. He understood they had separate, busy lives, but it couldn't be helped.

She was smiling a wide smile as she helped Marie out the car, gushing about the barely-there baby bump. The journalist smiled still as she watched Matt struggle with the seatbelt. The smile shook and dropped as Rachel noticed there were no other children in the car.

"Julian…Where- Julian, where-?" Rachel stammered, horror slowly taking over her features. His wife's eyes widened as she whirled around to look at him, because no, he hadn't told her, hadn't even been able to try, and he knew it was a bad move, but saying it aloud would have a sense of finality, of realness. Marie was the one that explained it to her sister-in-law as he simply stood frozen. And the thing was, he didn't want to even think about what could have happened, because his youngest kids weren't like other children…

They had to be fine. They had to. The alternative was unthinkable.

Valentine had already proven that to him.

And if he were to encounter a Kaiju in the first place…

Julian took a deep breath, distracted from his thoughts of revenge. He wouldn't. He'd lose on his own, and MEGTAF didn't inspire him much trust. He wouldn't try to fight, because it would be useless. He'd evacuate, and he'd work, and they'd hide. That's what he was good at, what he did in the last War. That's what he had to do.

Marie had entered the house. Only Rachel was beside him now.

 _He'd abandoned them he'd betrayed them it hurt he was sick sick so sick he was bad he was terrible he couldn't undo this no matter how hard he tried he was guilt and sin he was awful disgusting the worst for his children he_

He wanted to _just go to sleep_ and try to forget that _he had done this_.

"I didn't even want to tell you anything in the first place, I just wanted to…" He closed his eyes again, trying to focus only on the dim blackness that was in front of him now. It was easier than focusing on anything else. But it was still difficult. "I just wanted to go to work." He meant to stop there— it would certainly have been easier for him just to stop there. But he didn't. He just kept going, and that was probably a huge mistake, and his voice continued to build and stack in terms of volume.

"I just wanted to go to work," he repeated. "I just wanted to go to work, and I just wanted my children to be normal students, and I just wanted them to graduate, and I just wanted have a normal life, and I just wanted to be happy, and I just wanted everything to be fine, and he had to go and find about his biological family and Lea went with him and now everything is ruined and there's nothing left for me to do but just stand here and watch everything happen because no matter what I do, it'll all go horribly wrong just because Valentine was too stupid to stop and listen when I told him not to—"

He couldn't finish. He couldn't finish, and it was a good thing he couldn't.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said gently, reaching over so that she could rub his back. She was trying to be as comforting as she could. Some way to possibly staunch this tidal wave of sorrow that seemed to run amuck in her family.

And that was really the only thing she could reflect on as she stood with Julian, who seemed unable to stop his heaving and gasps of air.

Her poor, poor family.

* * *

Uncle Dale hadn't changed one bit from the last time Matthew had seen him in person, some four years ago. Dirty blond hair, dark blue eyes, somewhat fat, shirts decorated with rhombuses that Aunt Rachel insisted they looked horrible on him…

At least some things stayed the same. Some didn't, of course. People grew up. His cousin Tracey was studying Creative Writing, he had a new cousin of mere months named Mason, Emma had passed grades with a great score… Those were the kind of news that were passed by Howsitgoin' or Coldmail or such, but they hadn't visited in person in a long while.

"Tracey, where are you? Your cousin's here!" Uncle Dale bellowed.

"Coming, Dad!"

"Yeah Dad, wait a bit!" that must be Emma. "Wendy, hurry up!"

Now, Matt had expected a feminine voice. He had not expected his two cousins coming downstairs with a blue-eyed boy in tow. Both black-haired males stared at each other.

"What?" the boy –apparently named Wendy- asked in a deep voice.

Matt honestly couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

* * *

Matt could hear them. They were trying to be discreet, and he was willing to give them enough props for that. He had even put his auriculars on. But it was hard to do when it was all for naught anyway. Because they were like nails against his eardrums. Like chalk screeching down a board. Every scattered whisper through the room seemed to beeline straight for him. It was enough that he just stared down at his desk and tried to focus on the wood grains that were in front of him, and not cave in enough to cringe or flinch down into himself. He remained grounded. He remained sane. Which was a far bigger accomplishment than it really should have been.

"See him? He looks like crap."

"Poor guy."

"I never really got to know him. But still."

"Did you hear? Apparently his brother went looking for his biological family. I heard the father forced him to remain there."

"I heard he forced him to do much worse, if you know what I mean."

"Did you hear what happened a few weeks ago, though?"

"He looks like he's been crying."

"It's crazy. Insane."

"This sucks. This whole thing sucks."

"You think Matthew would mind talking about it? Because I heard that—"

"Wendy, Emma, don't you have anything better to do?" the voice of Matt's elder cousin, Tracy, cut through his music. When he came face to face with brown hair and green eyes, he couldn't just pretend to be ignoring her.

"We're going to the cinema," she said. Her expression softened. "All together."

The fifteen year old froze, all thoughts suddenly crumbling like sand, slipping through his fingers.

It wasn't that he had forgotten his situation. Or even failed to notice. It was just that, he had intended to spend the rest of the day come sun down hiding out in his (and only his; he would have to let Kobu sleep on his bed to fill the void, just for tonight) room and hoping that the nightmares wouldn't be bad when he went to sleep.

 _(It's terrible, but now that Belloc has shown his hand and re-emerged, he was... relieved. No more doubt. No more worry that his siblings are broken forever and the demon who did it will escape consequences. No more waiting. The bad part, he didn't know if they were alive and well.)_

The other two had stopped, each watching him with various levels of worry. Emma reached out, attempting to show support without infringing on his pride. "We get if you want to spend it on your own, but... We hoped you'd join us."

Tracy, ever empathetic towards others, placed a hand on his other shoulder. She smiled, somewhere between sad and sympathetic.

Even so, the world couldn't stand still.

When Matt smiled, his smile was like Tracy's. "Yeah, sounds good."

* * *

Hidden in what had once been an inhabited house, a boy and a girl lay together, trying to get rest. Hoping everything was but a bad dream.

"Vale?"

"...Mm?"

"I'm sorry. About what happened today."

"...Thinking it over is going to disturb your sleep. Don't worry 'bout it, okay?"

* * *

 _( Lea doesn't._

 _Vale does. )_

* * *

 **This is it for now. Please review, I'll give you a cookie!**

 **Your dutiful storyteller,**

 **H. E. B.**


	3. Open

_("...There are all those stories told down there, but I have never heard any songs from your lair. Don't your people sing? Have they forgotten how to?_ _"_

 _"...I do know_ _ **one**_ _song, but people call it an omen."_

 _"I won't tell anyone. Please, won't you sing it for me? I love music."_

 ** _...Have I not taught you that it is rude to listen in on other people's conversations?_**

 _ **Stop listening in on things that do not belong in your head. )**_

* * *

Julian White took a deep breath –it smelled of the pancakes Rachel was cooking- and steeled himself. He knew it wasn't exactly good to turn up uninvited at his sister's house, while his family slept still, but he had promised his Rachel he would tell her everything. And by everything, he meant even the strange, difficult-to-believe stuff.

The daily paper lay over even the breakfast bowls; a page had been roughly torn out and milk was soaking into the drooping corners. Julian went over to see what was taken –ah, the crime section. Dale was skimming through the aforementioned section, thick eyebrows pulled into a frown.

The daily paper made kitty litter look interesting. Aside from news that MEGTAF was accepting recruits (either too early or late depending on your point of view) it was less valuable than a blank page would have been.

"Sounds like something right up your alley." Julian said in his sister's direction, referring to the MEGTAF piece of news. Rachel looked up from where she was making breakfast, green meeting green.

"I mean, Rache, you always were inclined to do things that most people wouldn't. A few years back, you were a journalist. In fact, you were a journalist who recorded things when the War was raging." Julian went on, with the air of someone being deliberately casual.

"... Yes." Rachel answered, puzzled by this sudden topic.

"I can't seem to remember, were you any good?" at the question Dale very nearly snorted; if there was something his wife hated was having questioned her ability to write. Taking affront, Rachel bristled.

Her eyes narrowed _. "Very_ good."

It wasn't empty boasting, either – it was the truth; she knew she was a good journalist. Not the absolute top of her profession perhaps, but still a cut above the rest.

Julian replied without missing a beat. "Seen a lot of injuries then. Strange stuff."

"Well... yes."

There was an air of restrained excitement about Julian. "Bit of trouble too, I bet."

"Of course, yes." Rachel's answer was quiet, then felt the need to add. "Enough for a lifetime. Far too much."

She knew that was how she was _supposed_ to feel about it. But Rachel couldn't help it – she wanted excitement again.

Julian's next words were like a godsend. " ...Wanna see some more?"

"Oh _God_ yes." was out of Rachel's mouth within an instant.

* * *

"So your girlfriend was away last night, Jase?"

"Yeah, Helen had to go collect a relative of hers…"

"SHUT UP EVERYBODY, SHUT UP! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe, I'm trying to think."

"Sorry- what are we doing? Do you want me to _text a murderer?"_ were among the things she heard as she approached the door.

Curiosity perked up in her as she sped up, interested in what was happening inside. When she was close to the door, she yanked on the handle, only to find it locked.

Naya knocked on the door three times, but there was no answer. There was just an eerie forced silence, like the people inside had just realized that someone could have possibly heard their conversation and they were trying to get that person to leave by being quieter than mice. But that wasn't going to work, since she had already heard them speak.

She knocked again, getting impatient, but still, nobody answered.

Finally, after a few seconds, her impatience reached the highest level it could, and she angrily said the first thing that had crossed into her mind. Looking back onto it, it was kind of embarrassing that that was the first thing that popped into her mind.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in!"

"Not by the hair of my- HOLY CRAP!" Matt's face had appeared as the door opened, morphing from amused to something akin to horror as he yelled the last part.

"Is something wrong, cuz?" a female voice asked from inside.

"Yes, Matthew, you look like you have seen a ghost." Naya said, all smirks and sharp teeth.

Still as pale as a sheet, the boy beckoned her inside before calling out to his relative. "Yeah, everything's fine, I just didn't expect Lee to visit, I…I didn't know she would be relocated to this neighborhood."

Naya found herself face to face with a boy and a girl, both sitting lazily on a faded green sofa. She quickly deduced the girl and her betrothed were related –not only because of scent but of physical features-. The girl had her cellphone with her, and both were staring at the Kaiju girl.

"The girl's my cousin, Tracey, and her friend Jason." Matt muttered as he guided her to a chair.

"Lee? Isn't that a boy's name?" the teal-eyed boy said, snorting. The teenager –Tracey, apparently- lightly cuffed him with a hissed 'Jason, don't be rude'.

"Her name is Natalie. I call her Lee for short." Matt explained with a sigh. "Though she prefers the name Naya."

"Is she your girlfriend?" Jason asked, like Naya wasn't even there. Naya practically growled at the dismissal. He thought it was so _easy_. He thought she could take up painting, and paint over the canvas of her 'old' life.

What would she paint with? The brown sludge that collected in the most humid areas of the lair? The ashes and soot of the warmest regions? Or would she just rip her body to shreds and bleed her pigment into a canvas of rotten wood and put it all where everyone could see the betrayal she was committing?!

"I am not his girlfriend," whatever that means. That disgusting human didn't know how hard had it been to lie to her parents about why exactly she had been on the Overworld for so long. And making assumption about her –how dare he!

Naya smiled, and then turned to Jason, blue eyes smirking. "You did not get home last night."

Jason frowned, and Tracey spluttered. "How…?"

"I knew from your deodorant."

"My deodorant?" Jason asked.

"It's for men." Naya explained, a wicked grin beginning to form on her face.

"Well of _course_ it's for men, _I'm_ wearing it!" Jason snapped. Matt's eyes had widened and had stood up.

"So is Tracey."

All the blood drained from Tracey's face. Jason's eyes had widened, before he got in front of her and pointed. "You- you listen to me-"

Matt wasted no time in pulling Naya along to the front door. Footsteps indicated Jason was hurrying after them, fuming.

"Whatever it is you're trying to imply…" Jason continued with his rant, Naya cutting him off by stopping and turning back to him.

"I am not implying anything! I am sure Tracey came for a nice little chat, and happened to stay over. "

"Lee, stop okay?" Matt muttered, quickly grabbing her hand and starting towards the door.

"And I assume she scrubbed your floor, going by the state of her knees."

"We'll be back soon, okay?" the black-haired boy said as they went to the door, even as he absolutely couldn't help himself and glanced at his cousin's knees.

Matt had to drag her along outside. His cheeks were red, while Naya was laughing and –he was sure- a long conversation was going on inside the house they just left.

"How can you stand living in a place so cold?" Naya asked once they were out of earshot. She shivered for emphasis.

"It's Reno." Matt said as though that explained anything. "In winter it'll be cold even for me. So, why did you come back?"

Naya blinked in surprise. "I. Was. Bored. After a while, living there becomes monotonous. Besides, my parents let me. Since we took over that town we've been allowed free reign."

"Hey, hey, a little respect please. It was my hometown the one you destroyed." Matt growled, eyebrows pulled into a frown and brown eyes blazing. When it became apparent Naya wasn't going to apologize, the human sighed. "So where will you be staying?"

"For what I have gathered, some people panicked and fled the town as your people did. I will be staying in one of those houses. It will be easy enough, I only have to make sure nobody realizes I am there. What about you?" Naya asked, raising her eyebrows with curiosity.

"Me and my family are staying in a hotel near my cousins' home, but I think I will hang out with my relatives more often than not. It's not like I have any friends here…" the last part was a whisper, but Naya caught it regardless.

"Hey, Lee?" he asked after a pause. Naya's eyes twitched at the disliked nickname before refocusing her attention to the little human she had been conversing with. "Uncle Dale got a new cellphone for his birthday, and I was wondering if you would like to have the old one. He has the charger and everything, and we both need some way to keep in touch… You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" the male sighed, wondering how was it possible.

He realized she had a look of disdain on her face, as though this was…childish. Well, of course. Because they were children.

But she _wasn't_.

The had hit him like a punch to the gut, that stunning realization. When he tried to make Naya fit into one of his preconceived notions of people his age, he simply couldn't. He looked fifteen, and was fifteen. She _was_ different. She looked seventeen, but she _wasn't_.

* * *

Closing hours had caught Grant Edmunds in the middle of, redundancy aside, closing his shop. The twenty-six-year-old man had already turned off the lights –after checking everything of course. The shop was a goldmine for the local petty thieves. The shelves were lined up in such a way that it was difficult for the owner to see them from the cash desk-, and was already in the process of closing the door. He was already dreaming about what he would eat of his wife's splendid cooking, when a voice brought his attention back to reality.

"I'd like to come in, please."

Grant turned abound, graying hair and blue hat whipping, and he came face-to-face with a shivering young boy. Why was he quivering when it was the middle of the summer, Grant had not idea. _Oh, no,_ was the man's first thought. _I'm not gonna have another theft. Not when I'm 'bout to close._

He took one look at the child, and he said, "Beat it, kid."

"I just wanted to buy something to eat."

"What's your name?"

The boy stuck his trembling hands into his pockets and swallowed. His breath trailed thin ribbons into the air like dragon's smoke. "Johann."

"Well, Johann, I'm 'bout to close the shop, so no. I don't sell 'nything to riffraff." Because really, that's what the kid looked like, at least. Raggedy pants and shirt, both of an ugly grey color with a few rusty red splatters. Hair slick with grease, the skin drawn so tight across bone that it looked ready to split. Heh, even the posture said 'delinquent in the making'! Shoulders hunched, fists clenched at his sides. Knees skinned, face marred by minor wounds and smears of dirt.

"My money spends as well as anyone else's—I want to come in." the voice was pleasant enough, he supposed, though he could detect an undercurrent of steel. The boy had leaned forward on his last words and stared at Grant, fixing him with an even stare that for some reason froze Grant in his tracks like a rabbit.

"We're at war, kid. There's people who need it more… 'nd you don't seem to be carrying more than twenty bucks." Give that bread away today and maybe your child starves tomorrow. Even since the attack a few months ago to the little town in the South, they were everywhere, abandoned waifs, left for the free-market to feed and clothe.

"Exactly, sir. We're at war." his expression had inverted into a scowl, angry and somehow defiant, so that with his stiff limbs and hunched shoulders it looked as though he was expecting the man to strike him. "Just…just a bite. Or something to keep me warm…I noticed you have a few packs of charcoal." The child –Johann- eyed the inside of the store- well, it was camping season, and Grant would be damned if he didn't take advantage of it.

"Okirâ…Neiir... Ei tu neiir…" The strange words unnerved Grant, that's for sure, but that didn't stop him from trying one more time with words. If this kept up, he'd not be responsible of his actions.

"Store's closed, boy. So get lost—your mama's callin'," he sneered.

The boy just stood there, quivering, frozen outside the door. All else he intended to say, all else he had prepared was lost to him as he found himself being slammed into a wall. The kid drew himself up and stared him down, his muscles tight and trembling. His eyes shone green, two pinpricks of light that shouldn't have been there.

 _'He's one of them…'_ the realization did nothing to help Grant think about a way of escaping this new predicament. His jumper was torn as a hand – _a claw_ , thought Grant with no small amount of horror- shredded it.

His palms were sweaty and the adrenaline coursing through his system was shutting down his ability to think logically. He wanted to run or beat the living daylights out of this demon child, either would do.

"All I wanted was _something to eat!_ " the bo- no **monster** snarled, voice thick with anger. "I only wanted-"

Grant could see it all with an unnatural clarity: The boy-monster's clawed hands pining him against a wall, the unnatural shine of his eyes and the pure, undiluted rage that marred his features. He was going to be broken in half. He was going to be torn apart. He was going to be eaten. Grant was going to die there. Just another one on the list of people attacked.

"No, no," Johann mumbled. His eyes were no longer green, and if Grant was someone who believed in superficial appearance, the boy looked crushed with regret.

"I didn't… Pleas- ple..."

With a sound that was half-hiss, half-sob, the child wrenched himself away and was gone in an eye blink, leaving Grant shrunken and quivering on the pavement.

* * *

The boy himself didn't stop until he was a good four blocks away and ducked down into another alley, this one empty and silent, and flopping against the wall.

Oh, how easy it would have been to just pick that man up and shake him, show him who was a _kid_ , show him just who was really in charge here, to throttle him into submission and then just bite, and that thick sweetness would well up and he would _eat_.

He ran his hands through his hair, gripping tightly, before letting go and slamming his head not at all gently into the bricks in front of him, stopping only when he felt them begin to crack and crunch beneath him. He had to get a hold on himself—had to clamp down on that cold and horrible thing in his belly that had been creeping closer to the surface as the night wore on, that part of him that wanted nothing more than to glut itself on hot, _human_ flesh.

Perhaps it wasn't him at all. A few minutes of stolen time in isolated occasions proved he couldn't exactly trust himself, right? Maybe it wasn't him the one that wished to feast in such a way.

He would follow, he would find, but he didn't want to.

There was no choice. Human's nature was of curiosity, and quashing it in made it come back, stronger than ever. Maybe it was the voice. He could fault the voice, his progenitor. The voice that talked, spoke, whispered and shredded doubt. The voice called to him, and he had to see. He had to gaze. He had to obey. Fighting back didn't work just yet.

He had used quite a lot of names now. Valentine, Duncan, Allen, Dante, Johann.

He tried to calm down, but the tension in his body simply wouldn't leave.

That man hadn't been smart, but then again, it could have been worse. Most creatures –Lea included- looked at him, and when he stared back with eyes that weren't his, they stopped gazing and began running.

He didn't know what had possessed him into mingling with the groups of humans that were simply enjoying their holidays and reveling in their new freedom. Valentine tended to avoid crowds. When he was knee-deep in a mass of people, their thoughts, their sounds and smells tended to drown out him. And when the crowd was so riotous and obviously uninhibited as this one, coupled by the fact that he was _hungry_ , and it became frighteningly easy to lose himself entirely.

And that sounded simply wonderful—to go inside, to bury himself in that desperate, blazing push of humanity, and if only for a moment, to feel it, to be part of it. To feel happy and relaxed and ready to go home, to go to _sleep_ , and to forget the cares that weighed him down more and more as the years went by.

In his mind's eye, he saw total darkness, except for a light inside his chest, and a door inside his mind, waiting to be opened. He was the key, the lock, the door, and the breeze that pushed it ajar. He would not let it open.

He would not point his finger. He would not talk.

Not to him. Never to him.

 _'Ei tu neiir…"_

 **'Then feed, butterfly.'** The voice sang. The voice called.

Before the starvation had hit the siblings, they were principled and full of high morals. They never used to steal, lie or kill for food. But in this new reality the old rules will get you dead...fast. Lea had food for her, easy to provide.

He, on the other side of the spectrum, couldn't digest anything that wasn't meat or coal. It would be only a matter of time before…

Vale inhaled deeply –which did nothing to clear his head, as the air was filled with the smells of oil and tobacco and grease …and beneath it all, the maddening sweetness of the thousands of hearts pumping their blood in the city around him. There was nothing to search in that particular alley, so he made his way out and down the sidewalk.

She would provide them passable clothes. He would provide the food. Rephrase: He would try to provide the food.

Some brother.

The streets were all too familiar to him, since he had been there for a few months already. He left Bellview a long while ago. The month between it and Rinktown was spent walking. In hindsight, he half-heartedly thought that flying would've saved both of them a great deal of energy and time, but the other half believed that he was giving himself a small portion of his newly formed hell by not making things easier for himself. Or herself. She could appear anywhere she'd previously been to, after all.

Second town in a few months, and they still couldn't find their parents. At least, they knew they had to be nearby, and they didn't dare call them in fear they would be detected. Didn't their aunt and uncle live in Nevada…?

His insides gnawed at themselves. His ears were quivering for the sound of prey, and so his eyes shot upward at a rustling noise above him; a squirrel was skittering along the branches. With a single leap, Vale was in the tree, and he snatched it up before it even had time to try to escape. He sank his teeth into it, deliberately ignoring its squeaks of pain and terror and its slowly weakening struggles—a few bites and it would be over. His mouth flooded with a hot, coppery bitterness, and he forced himself to swallow it down, even as his stomach churned and his throat tried to close against the disgusting, rusty fluid that coated his gullet with its sour stickiness and oozed sluggishly through his veins.

He ate quickly, ignoring the fur before throwing the carcass aside, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. His throat burned, as it always did when he tried to placate the ravening beast within with a poor substitute for what he truly craved. He then raked a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, wrestling his hunger into submission—there were times that he wondered if feeding only made it worse, wetting his appetite without truly slaking him, waking the monster inside without bedding it back down.

His gaze posed on a few birds on the ground and grinned.

* * *

"I don't believe it," she said in a mixture of exasperation and fondness. "You could have been seen!"

"Not sorry." The boy merely said in reply, fishing something from inside his jumper. Lea rolled her eyes and turned away, not wanting to see how her brother finished his half-eaten bird. Valentine waited until the redhead had taken a seat before sitting down himself. His inner magic was healing his wings almost exclusively, he simply didn't have the reserves to make up for his broken wings and lack of food.

"When was the last time you ate, brother?" the younger asked when the boy finished sucking even the marrow out.

"…What day is it?" the blond asked, too preoccupied with plucking the feathers off his prey to properly look at her.

"It's Wednesday." Lea answered, titling her head.

"I'm all right for a bit."

He eyed the redhead beside him. Dressed in a simple pair of worn trousers and an even more-used grey jumper. Hair cut short enough to be difficult to guess her gender at first glance, he didn't understand that precaution. The little girl looked like any street rat.

Certainly not someone dangerous, certainly not someone who deserves to be hunted down like an animal.

"Any news?"

Vale hummed absently, too preoccupied with the bird to care. Lea patiently waited, laying a hand on his leg. As soon as they were reunited, Vale had refused to let the human girl out of his sight, and it wasn't long before they started keeping constant physical contact, getting as close to being the same person again as they could.

"MEGTAF and all their staff moved to another facility, quite a few kilometers from here. Nothing bad, but I saw a few Kaiju in disguise, so we should get moving. Tomorrow, perhaps." He answered absently, cracking a bone with his teeth. The girl flinched at the sound.

"But we just settled here two days ago! Can't we wait?!" the girl's voice was pleading, she hated having to be so alert all the time. She wanted some quiet for once. Since they had been on the run, Lea's world was yellow, nerves fraying at the ends as each corner she turned flashed with bright hazard signs. Don't mess up, it told her, written in neon and blinding. Fear crept up and choked her–her lungs working just fine, but the noose around her neck saying otherwise.

There were violet impressions, poisoned anxiety leaving marks on her skin, bruising the yellow in their wake. It sank into her soul and bit down hard until it almost snapped in two. Purple like death, like hatred, like doubt.

"Do you _want_ someone to find us?" the words were sharp in a way they had never been before. "Do you wish for us to be apart? Do you want to end up like those kids in the store?"

Her world was yellow, her world was purple–the polarity of day versus night pulling her apart until all that remains is a broken marionette.

"…No."

Vale smiled thinly, lips tightly pressed together. He regretted having to remind her of what they saw, but she had to understand that moving was of the utmost importance. To be honest, he didn't even know how many humans died during their first month as runaways, for the very same reasons.

Over the course of their journey he heard lots of different versions, heard while he hid, avoiding slit pupils - only the grownups because kids do not make good meals; only the little children because their hearts taste the sweetest.

Each Kaiju had their own preferences. All brought tribute and sacrifice to their King.

When she first heard of them, Lea thought she might be able to save them. The victims whose gasps sped faster and faster until the confusion in their eyes turned to terror as they couldn't breathe and clutched their throats desperately. The young Kaiju, like Naiee, who'd yet to turn their hearts to glass and were as horrified as she was. She'd thought she'd be able to save herself, because wasn't that what happened in a fairytale?

"Not in the old ones," Vale told her, with a sad smile. He had caught that stray thought. "I truly doubt you can."

"Well, it can be hard, but I'm sure…" the girl sighed and tucked a grim-covered curl behind her ear. "Nevermind. Any other facts about Kaiju that I should know?"

"…Did you know, that they can manipulate your mind? Erase some things?" The boy asked, and something about him seemed to harden. "Like in fairytales, Lea. It could be your first smile, the scent of your home, the sound of your voice…"

"That doesn't sound too bad." Lea commented, taking in his appearance, biting another scolding. She supposed she couldn't blame him.

He was changing more and more **and more**. When he exhaled, a white mist would come from it, like his temperature was so warm even a reasonably summer's day heat wasn't comparable to him. Like the outside world was too cold for the heat within his body. His brain was a freaking hand grenade. His clothes filthy with dirt and blood not entirely his own.

Vale turned to her and _goodness grandma what sharp teeth you have._ "It does, doesn't it? How about I erase your memory of our parents' faces? The first time you laughed? You would lose the capability to laugh, you'd forget. They could erase your soul if they wanted to, with enough time and dedication."

The unspoken threat lingered in the air.

"Do you know how to do that?"

"Yes."

"Wait, so have you done that sometime?"

"I…I haven't."

He had taught him things, never let it be said that he was only there for his amusement. Oh, he respected Belloc's power, he feared him, but even he had to admit he knew so much.

Lea was looking at him with those emeralds of eyes, wanting to know something else, some information about the Kaiju. Maybe it was simple curiosity, maybe she wanted something to draw. He searched his mind for something he hadn't yet told her. "The female Relics are called maidens for some people. Relics usually are at the edges of the battlefield, attacking in a row."

Lea nodded, eyes shining, and Vale wondered just what she was imagining. He took one look at the window behind them and sighed.

"I'm sorry, but I will go roam the area, just to be sure." Lea tensed. Her brother didn't mind some of his kind catching sight of him, but of her? Not even a glimpse if he could help it.

"Hey, Lea, calm down," he said in concern, for the redhead's heartbeat had increased far too quickly.

Lea didn't hesitate, at once rushing to speak.

"Don't," she said, yellow dancing in her vision. "Let me go with you. I won't do anything. Please-"

Please don't leave me again.

"I won't be going right now, Lele. I will not." He said, hastily placing his hands on her shoulders, wracking his brain for a way to divert her from her turmoil.

Lea was lost in a blur of yellow and purple and black and she didn't want to be alone again and- She was distracted by the sound of her brother's voice. He was not saying anything she could understand, though. In fact, it didn't... really sound like talking. The words flowed together instead of being separate, and his voice was going higher and lower, and sometimes he held out a syllable and _oh my god is he singing?_

She couldn't move. She couldn't risk moving, and she didn't think she was actually able to move anyway. The boy was singing, soft and quiet and beautiful, and even if she had no idea what the words he was singing were, she didn't need to know to love every note.

She had no idea how long they were there. Lea was not even sure if the reason the sun was no longer brightening the spot of the window was because of clouds or because they had just been there _that_ long, but she knew her brother couldn't sing forever. When he stopped, he chuckled.

"I... I had no idea you could..." Lea stammered out.

He gave her a fierce, triumphant grin.

"What... um, what were those words?" She couldn't help but ask, really, considering he practically offered.

Vale played idly with his bangs. "Kaiju have many languages, Lele. I consider that of my place of staying one of the few good things to keep." He paused, and his brown eyes danced joyfully. "Or perhaps I'm secretly an even bigger nerd than you, and I just made up a language to sing for you in. Perhaps you won't know for a while."

Lea tensed again when he made a move, wanting to stand, and she searched her brain for something she wanted to know, something that would keep him there a while longer.

"Why do they call you Treasonous?" she asked impulsively, not knowing what it meant.

"By all means, feel free to answer that one." Vale snapped. "Truly, it is ridiculous. I have divulged information pertaining the location of the lair, but they need not worry. I have no intention of revealing more, yet they are set on their ways."

"You're talking weird again…" Lea rolled over, glancing at the window behind the covers they used as a bed. It was difficult to tell, but the sun was setting. Dipping lower and lower, taking the rays of light with it.

Her brother wasn't alert. Did that mean the room was safe then? It had nothing that could keep a monster out.

The boy had smiled indulgently at her when she voiced her concerns, but she was still worried. Vale's smiles never reached his eyes nowadays. The rest of his face made an effort, all the right muscles worked, but his eyes stayed sunken and dim, the brows hanging low. It made him look much older than he should have been.

"Just one time. I'll be fine." He was using the tone of voice people only used when they mean _I promise_. She looked at him again. The boy looked slightly wilted, like worn curtains hanging in an abandoned home. The faded yellow of his hair made her realize how dark it was becoming.

"It'll be dark soon," she insisted. Brown eyes smiled at her. "I know." And that was that.

Slowly, Lea nodded her head. Vale released his grip and stood up. His gaze lingered on Lea for a moment longer, then he carefully stepped around the girl and out of the house.

Around that part of the city, the shadows were so deep as to be almost solid; anything that stepped into them lost its outline, its color bled into the surrounding black. Vale's shoes squeaked on the stones, his jumper turned monochrome. Just before he disappeared, he turned and saw Lea sitting where he'd left her, head bowed low.

Lea raised her head, then turned to her brother. She lifted her hand and waved. Vale waved back.

She had moved to the window, her entire being filling with anticipation. And then everything outside was black. Absolutely everything. Like black smog and liquid shadows.

It made everything eerier, distorting familiar shapes into something different. A world where creatures of the night could roam free.

Just like her brother.

* * *

 **I figured you guys would like to see more of the Kaiju language.**

 _ **Ei tu neiir: I'm so hungry.**_

 _ **Okirâ: Please**_

 **If you guys don't like this, tell me and I'll remove it.**

 **Your dutiful storyteller,**

 **H. E. B.**


	4. Understand

_( Staring at the woman, he wondered what had been her thoughts, the day they met. Was she afraid? Was she brave?_

 _He will never know for certain._

 _But one thing he knows,_

 _One thing for sure_

 _Is that—"_

 _..._

 _I am aware you do not know how this has appeared in your head._

 _Either way, **it should not be in your head.**_ )

* * *

"...And when he got back you didn't even report him?!"

Rachel's voice rang through the room, accusing, disbelieving. Julian rubbed at his eyes tiredly, feeling his exhaustion creeping in. It was incredible how blindsided by hatred and fear people could get sometimes. Julian was no exception, he feared the Kaiju like every self-respecting human, it was a natural answer to the unknown in general. Darren had proven multiple times to be trustworthy, and even then Julian had always been a bit wary, it had never truly left.

The boy he had raised was the exception, not the rule. No matter what initial fears he had bred on the subject.

But that was the root of the problem, wasn't it?

"Did you honestly think I would hand him over to MEGTAF like he was an experiment? He's a living being. He's my son! In fact, he doesn't want to go back! I already know that! He said so himself once, but even if he hadn't, I saw it on his face when I asked him. He said he couldn't go back and when I asked him why he would want to, he said that he wouldn't even if he was given the chance. He doesn't want to go back to…wherever he came from!"

Beside his wife, Dale stifled a laugh. "I can't believe it took you so long to figure it out, Rachel."

Julian stiffened. "You knew he's not…?"

"No human has eyes like that," the man laughed, shaking his head in amusement and giving him a grin like the Cheshire cat. "Nor that kind of raw power. When you introduced him to us, I could feel him for what seemed like miles before he ever even first approached the house. Some people are kinda sensitive about all the supernatural stuff."

Rachel rounded on her husband. "Yes, but he's dangerous and it's…Dale, he's a _monster_ , stuck in a human body with powers beyond comprehension. You cannot honestly think that him being here could be good for anyone—not him, and not us and not anyone!" Rachel protested loudly, her tone bordering sharp before her eyes widened upon seeing her brother's expression. Julian's jaw had clenched, setting, and the muscles were jerking at the edges of his cheeks, his eyes narrowed, burning into her angrily. He looked almost as capable of breathing fire as his adopted son. "I am not blaming you, Jules. Please calm down, okay? I am not even going to say it was your fault. You never knew what you were doing…"

"Do you really think he's going to be such a big problem?" he finally asked from between his teeth, feeling a cold chill trail down his spine as he drew in a deep breath.

"I don't honestly know. But I don't think that if it does, the effects will be immediate. If there is one to occur, I think it will be a long and slow process. And maybe I'm even worrying for no real reason. I just meant to say that he is powerful and there is no true way to control him should it need to happen. It's just…it's dangerous to gamble with such odds. And thinking it will be completely fine is extremely selfish and foolish. It seems delusional to assume that in any way."

Julian didn't even react when Rachel left the room, both siblings immersed in his thoughts. And he would continue over-analyzing things and giving himself a headache if Dale hadn't intervened.

"Hey, uh..." the rhombus-clad man attempted to say, eyes apologetic. "Rache has always been a tad too pro-human, so don't take it too personally, Julian." he gave the younger man a smile. "Never thought I'd never say that..."

"And what are your views?" Julian asked, and his heart leaped to his throat.

"To be honest...he's still my little nephew, even if he suddenly got a lot cooler in my eyes. Dunno, I think I need time to properly process this."

* * *

Deltland had so much people it wasn't even funny. The buildings were a dull, grey color, bricks piled atop of each other covered with even duller paint. The overpowering scent of smog filled the air, making breathing a laborious task. Passing between opposing two locals of McRonald and Burger Queen sent a whiff of a greasy smell his way. The moist sensation in the air, indication that a storm was quick on his way. Perhaps it was a bias from being born and raised in a quiet little town, but there was an overabundance of humans littering the street. There were simply too many individual scents to keep track of, and he had long ago decided to breathe through his mouth.

He was cold, hands trembling slightly, and his breath made a mist which would've been more appropriate on a chilly winter day. Not in the middle of August. At least the obscene amount of people prevented him from getting too many passing glances –that was a lie, but considering their clothing he was grateful for small mercies-.

The weight on his back prevented him from walking as fast as he'd like, and the sensory overload made a menial task like walking an almost overwhelming one. And to think he once thought being half-Kaiju could have its perks.

"Brother?" the lump he was carrying on his back stirred and yawned.

"You're awake Lele? Did you sleep well?" Valentine asked, not once pausing from his movement. It was a full three minutes before the girl answered him.

"Are we there yet?" Lea asked, completely ignoring his question.

"Well, we're in town." Vale said slowly. "But we need to find someplace to stay." His eyes moved around, looking for any rundown building. "Either way, we won't be able to sneak in until night comes, so I think we should kill time."

And so they did, familiarizing themselves with the new town, finding their new passing home in the form of a large, decaying house some blocks away from a church. As the sun was setting, the adopted siblings made their way to their temporary shelter. The abandoned house was in between some others, a large building decayed with ruin.

"I want to draw." the younger one whined, clasping the other's hand tightly after memorizing what they would do the next day.

"Clothes, Lea, clothes are what we need." Vale shuddered as the sun dropped past the horizon- he could always feel the sun set within his blood, as if he was attuned to the exact moment the night began.

"I know that," the redhead replied, sick herself of the grey uniform she and her brother were sporting. "But I need some pencils and a sheet, like, right now. My revelations get stuck in my head and usually they're all bad and it always leaves me with a headache." Lea grumbled with a pout, eyeing her grey jumper and pants. Valentine's was more of a rusty brown by now, something that he never ceased of reminding her.

It's not like she forgot he had been fighting Kaiju with bad intentions for her sake.

"You need to draw. I get what you mean." The blond responded in a murmur.

When he was writing a book, it was just not writing his thoughts. It was creating people. It was creating an alternate universe.

He had the power to destroy a life, but to also make a new one. He had the power to see the destination, while your people are left wondering if their creator will allow them to see that accomplishment. He was their God, their Creator. He had the ability to make anything happen.

Life, Death. Sickness, Health. Rich, Poor. Compassionate, Cold. Sane, Insane. Happiness, Sadness.

He had the ability to control all this as the words were carved by his hands. He had a universe in his hands - His, and only his. Something he truly could control.

"However," he continued. "We have no chance but keep going. This moment will just be another story someday."

They reached the front door. No light came from within. Thought the door hung ajar, the hinges had seen too much rain and opening it took both of them to push shoulders into the weary wood. Whoever lived in the house abandoned it years before, perhaps even in the height of the war.

"Are you sure? It doesn't look like it has a functional bathroom," Lea complained from his right, cleaning dust from her hands. She understood the situation, but she was missing the comforts of her life. Namely the shower. And soap. And warm water.

"It's the best we have," her brother apologized, looking genuinely sorry. Lea could've painted his eyes with so many shades and it still would pale in comparison to the real thing.

"Next time we try on a recently abandoned house, anii?" green eyes shone insistently as their owner fought for the rights of basic hygiene. If Vale noticed her slip-up on the tongue he's been teaching her, he didn't comment.

"I make no promises," he said instead.

The inside could only be classified as 'dusty'. Bars rusted over single paned windows, some sections of the mullioned glass absent, channeling the damp wind. If any occupants lingered, they obviously weren't human but rodent or bird. The living room, at the very least, had two sofas with huge dust bunnies sitting on one of them; the previous chocolate leather being faded with time. Spiders had taken residence in every nook and cranny there was, and Lea trembled at the sight of six on the wall directly in front of them. They were those of medium size, with a small body and very long legs.

As they navigated through the constellation of dust and cobwebs, Valentine laughed.

"Of all the things you can be afraid of-" he swiftly grabbed a spider which had been hanging leisurely on its web. "-you're afraid of those little insects?"

Lea looked away from him as he roasted it, directly at another spider. "Gross." She muttered when the boy had swallowed the puny morsel.

"Proteins." Vale retorted, looking completely unfazed by his previous action. "You know I can't afford to be selective. Besides you don't really need to chew-" he had started off as teasing but decided to stop when he looked at her disgusted expression. "Picky, picky."

The kitchen was small, cluttered and dusty. The cupboards were faded green with white flowers and handles. The counters were a dark green, black and white marble with a coat of thick grey dust hugging it. The sink was also very dusty and it had dirty plates and bowls in it and a leaking tap. The tiles on the floor were green and dirty. Insects and plants had claimed the kitchen as their own. The plants were even forcing their way through holes in the wall and there was a small bird's nest in one of the drawers.

"We should leave the door open. The spiders will clean it up free of creepy-crawlers." The boy laughed at his sister's dismay. "Saying things like _I'm scared of spiders_ , you're such a baby, my seer."

Lea sucked in a breath. "Arachnids," she stated, walking up to one of the drawers in order to examine the nest. "Aw look, there are chicks!"

"What?" the brown-eyed boy raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"There are chicks!" the little girl smiled joyfully, before taking in her partner's extended confusion. "Hehe, spiders are arachnids, big brother. Not bugs."

Valentine's confusion was replaced with a sheepish smile. "Ah, I'm afraid I was mistaken."

"Hell has frozen over." She sighed, eyes fixed on a worm making its way along the wall.

* * *

"So...I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain?" he asked while fiddling with his phone, writing on something called a 'blog'.

She watched as his face morphed into a wide smile, as if he had just said something funny. His expression slid off his face the longer he stared at her.

"Other thing you should know: school sucks."

"I never asked."

Matt shot her an annoyed look and tossed his backpack. He rolled his eyes, sighing, and threw himself onto the mattress with a belly flop accompanied by a harsh, "Whatever." For a long moment he could feel Naya's stare, cold and calculating and curious, intense, burning into his skin. From the corner of his eye he could make her out where she sat on the desk chair watching him. But then, abruptly, the blue-eyed girl got to her feet and the movement pushed her from his line of vision with such efficiency that Matt nearly panicked that she had disappeared for a moment.

"Oh, I am so terribly sorry, Matthew. I was not aware that when I agreed to this I would end up being your little shoulder to cry upon," Naya sneered, patting his shoulder with a falsely sympathetic expression and sniffling mockingly as if tears blurred her eyes. The boy opened his mouth to tell her to shut up but wound up run over when she continued speaking. "'Oh my god, school sucks but I still go. Jake only talks about Maia anymore. You worry me. Tracey is a whore—'"

He hated himself when he burst out laughing at the statement. His hands flew up to cover his mouth, smothering his guffaws only slightly. He glared at her, wishing he could reprimand her, but wound up only able to snicker harder. "Lee, shut up," he grumbled, smiling too widely for the other teen to even consider taking him seriously. "She is not a—"

"Wendy's name is always so questionable. Oh my god, Emma and Dale are fighting over a pocket watch she wants—limited _edition_.'"

"Why would you put emphasis on 'edition' and not 'limited'? I think you're abusing your sarcasm."

"I think you need to take a cactus up the ass and grow up."

"A—gods, Lee, a cactus?"

The Kaiju teen shot him a devious look. "Anything is a dildo if you are brave enough."

Matt's mouth dropped open immediately, at first about to laugh again and then quickly growing horrified as the words connected in his head. Oh dear god, Naya must have gotten her hands on his porn magazines if she actually knew that word and what it meant. He had certainly never said it around her, careful not to have to awkwardly pile on something else that he needed to explain to her. He also had not wanted the blue-eyed teen to begin to get ideas. He had kept from saying or even thinking the word, regardless of whether he was speaking to Wendy -the only one of his cousins who seemingly had no shame- about something sexual. He had carefully filtered every single thought and word he spoke in order to avoid it so that Naya could not find it in his vocabulary somewhere.

"Correct. I did find your little stash," she chuckled, purring sultrily and smirking twice as wide, showing off each tooth. She leaned against the mattress lazily, shifting only enough to angle her body to press his shoulder blade against the headboard as Matt watched her. "I have to say I have had my horizons expanded. I was not aware that you and your cousin were so terribly…ah, what is the word? _Kinky_? Is that it? Judging by that blush, I will assume that I am correct."

Matt opened his mouth to protest, entire face burning as if it might burst into flames, but the girl bulldozed him once more.

"Ever think about doing that with me?"

"Ew. No. First of all, you seem like a _proper_ girl and second, I'm pretty sure some of that has to be edited…or…Oh fucking god, I hope it is," he stated with a roll of his eyes. He had started off strong but had fallen into a soft, weak whisper as the statement continued to leave his lips. Flushed once more, he ducked his head and hurried for under his bed. It was the only place that he could think Naya might hide them—considering that was where he often put them anyways. In order to avoid moving them and allowing him to notice, she would use his own hiding places to her advantage and laugh in mocking amusement when he grew more flustered. He shuddered at the thought that it was real, suddenly unable to push it away, and then ducked his head further when Naya snickered from her spot leaning against the headboard.

"What if I told you it was _all_ natural?"

Matt spun on her with his mouth hanging open. "Oh my god, you've had sex before?" he blurted out, unable to stop himself and then blushing furiously at the statement. His voice had grown higher in pitch and his face felt strange where his lips had tugged into a grimace.

The other teen continued laughing. "That look on your face was worth the comment," she stated simply, smirking widely once more and leaning forward only slightly. The left side of her mouth pulled open a bit more, showing off her canine, and Matt nearly trembled as he looked at her slowly. "But I noticed something, little human. You are quite into the bondage—"

"They're all Wendy's!" he squeaked pathetically, mortified by the falsetto tone before he turned his head away again to dig through some of his papers in his search for the stupid magazines. "I just borrowed them."

"Riight."

"What's with that sudden interest? You jealous?"

"Jealous? You pathetic human. What do I have need to be jealous of? Girls you have no chance with being your form of entertainment? You foolish little boy. At least you are more entertaining than the other males who I swear drool when I come near."

"Luckily for me, they're not nearly as desperate to get in your pants as you are to do so to, say…a certain brown-eyed boy who goes by the name Matthew."

"Desperate?" Naya scoffed with a mocking laugh, bitter and furious. "For sex with you? No. I am desperate for the freedom you cheated me of. I want it and I crave it. And your body seems to be the only way that I can receive it."

"Cute, but we both know you're just desperate for some fun time with me."

"You disgust me."

"Yeah, so you say."

"I hate you."

"Mmhmm."

"I wish I could kill you."

Matt merely smiled in amusement, before taking out his chess set.

* * *

 _(Lea was flying. The sun shining brightly in the pale blue sky, dazzling them as they swept through the clouds, the light shining off the burgundy wings that enveloped them. An absolute sensation of freedom, a joy so strong their hearts could scarcely contain it._

 ** _"If you do not stop prying, I will burn you."_**

 _...but something was wrong. The light became distant and cold and those wine-red wings shattered into fading red fragments around them as they fell past the earth and deep into the darkness below._

 ** _"I will burn the_ heart _out of you."_**

 _Not the burgundy leather of a young demon's wing, but the pale, fragile sparks of fire.)_

Lea woke up with a start. She spent a few seconds flailing in panicked confusion before remembering. The house, the spider-infested living room, the blue-themed bedroom with twin beds the siblings had taken residence in. The mattresses were too soft for her, time having done nothing to make them comfortable. To her right, Valentine stared at his sheets in mute horror.

There were scorch marks on his sheets. He remembered gripping them as he woke up.

Remembered the fire that was both his and not his, the one that turned everything to ash.

He could have set the bed on fire. He could have set the bed on fire. His sister could have _burned_ in the bed of fire. He-

"It was a dream." Lea stated matter-of-factly, her hands clenching and un-clenching her own sheets in an attempt to calm her quickly beating heart. "It was a dream, but we're awake now, and..."

"...And?" his eyes were still staring at the sheets, and Lea wondered just how much his temperature had risen.

"I know you're scared, brother, but... But you don't have to be. You have me now." she tried to smile at him, but judging by his expression it was something quick and feeble. "We'll get through this. Okay?"

"Okay." his eyes had shifted to hers now, and Lea didn't like the role reversal.

"We already crossed three towns already, without even flying. But I want to forget about all that for a while. Okay?"

"Okay."

"We're both fine, and things will get better. Okay?"

"Okay." and then he smiled a gentle smile, and Lea let her tension fade away. Was anything going to be normal anymore? She was in a world of monsters and scary things.

She had thought about getting out of bed and grasp him by the shoulders, a physical reminder that he wasn't alone, but she was afraid that he might have venetian eyes instead of the comforting burnt umber.

She couldn't risk it being true. She was awake and she knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't risk it.

She couldn't risk it.

* * *

Considering the time the house appeared to have been abandoned, it was an absolute miracle that Lea found a comb, which he insisted both of them used, ignoring the male's protests. With their hair reflected in each other's mirror they took turns combing it for each other.

"Lea, I've never combed my hair in my life, so if you want to break the comb go ahead." Valentine grimaced when the comb wouldn't move through his unruly locks. "Of course you miss it, you're a likha."

"I'm a what?" Vale silently thanked God for his inadvertent slip. "Likkha. It literally means girl-child."

"And how do you say boy?" she asked, tugging on his hair a bit before she managed to remove the comb. Lea shifted from behind him and sat beside the boy, her expression attentive.

"Boy-child. Likhte." he answered simply, looking at her in the eye. Lea grasped a handful of sheets again. They used to lie in the same bed. The two of them, hand in hand, were just inseparable. In the distorted mirror, with hands folded, their fingers were not of the same length.

His moment of a stolen identity... _From now on will we sleep in separate beds?_

For a moment she wanted to lie down with him again. She erased her childish impulse together with the light. _If I can't open to you, then I will also tell lies._

"Can I go with you today?"

Vale looked at her with a regretful smile. "Sorry, but the deal was, I get your food and you get the clothes. I think we passed a church a few streets away. I would be with you but we would cover more ground that way. Do you understand, sis?"

She didn't, really. That urge of his to stay separated was something she tolerated, accepted even, but did not understand. She understood one thing.

They were connected. She was simply a half of his soul, his weaker half. Was it so outrageous, for her to want to feel whole again? For wanting to become one with him?

To her, it was only natural.

It had always been crystal clear to her, even since she was small.

Lea was six. She believed in happy endings, in fairy tales and princes and _loveatfirstsight_. He was her best friend, even though he was ten. He was _herprince_ ; the one who slayed dragons for her and tried so hard to give her a 'happy ending'. Darren called her 'my Princess'. Vale called her 'little seer'. He was her brother. He was her _firstcrush_.

At the time, she already knew that she was wrapped around her brother in ways that made soul mates and the purest of loves look fake. It was obsessive, maniacal, and immensely dangerous and it made no sense but it was part of her. It was engraved in her bones, breathed when her lungs expanded, spread when her heart beat, flexed with her skin. It was primal and feral, somewhere between an obsession and the core of her existence. It was something she would have never considered, but the only thing that she thought her existence might be meant for.

That had to be the most terrifying thing she had ever considered, but it was the truest sense of reality she had seemed to grasp upon. She was meant to exist for Vale, but she questioned if perhaps it was the same for him.

They both had their quirks, yes, and there were a few things that marked them as different people. As much as Lea hated those differences, they were there. The age, the gender, the blood.

He was her and she was him. It was incredibly simple.

So what if there were social norms? They weren't really siblings, in a strictly biological sense. Valentine of all people should know that. He was half Kaiju – Demon, she remembered someone say, like a half forgotten dream–.

"Valen, can I ask you something?" Lea inquired, lifting her suddenly worried eyes to peer at him behind dirty red curls, handing him the faded brown comb.

Vale looked startled for a moment. "You, my sister, may ask me anything."

The green-eyed child took a deep breath, "Did we... th-the people in MEGTAF. When we escaped. They- We killed them, Brother." her voice hitched and shook. "I'm sorry."

Lea meant to ask for clarification over one small fact, but it was a mere sentence in and the barriers came crashing down.

"I didn't meant to kill them. I'm sorry! I just – I didn't want them to hurt us and they, they—" A broken sob. "I didn't want them to die, I didn't mean for them to die. I'm sorry! Why did they have to try to stop us? They could still be alive! They shouldn't have done it. They weren't supposed to die, they weren't. I didn't mean to kill them, I didn't mean to kill them."

"No, Lea, you didn-"

"I killed them. Me! I killed them, I killed them, I killed them!"

Worried by the increasingly hysterical note in the girl's voice, Vale gripped her hands. Bad idea. She keened with fear, and magic swirled through the room, building up, feeding off the girl's terror and rattling the windows.

She was cut off the task of blinking rapidly by a pair of warm arms wrapping themselves around her. Stopping time, he embraced her tightly, trying to synchronize their ticking heartbeats.

Then, so abruptly it made Valentine jump, Lea sprang back, crashing sideways into the wall and pressing herself against the stones. "Murderer," she snarled. "Murderer, murderer, murderer. I killed them. Me, me, me. Dead, dead, dead."

She clawed at her hands as if trying to scrape something off, and under Vale's startled eyes began to draw blood. It only sent her into a worse frenzy.

"Lea!" The elder sibling caught the girl up in his arms, holding her off the ground and pinning her arms to her side so she could no longer damage herself.

"Let me go!" Lea fought, weak but desperate, trying to get free. "You'll die, you'll die, don't come near me!"

"I'm not letting go and I'm not dying."

"You will! I'm a killer, I'm a murderer, you'll die!"

"So am I!" He applied more pressure. "Please, I'm not dying, Lea!"

"Vale, please, let me go." Magic rattled the windows with her weak anger.

"Not until you are calm," Vale said bluntly.

Lea looked up at him, white-faced and confused, mouth open and eyes wide, face a sticky mess. She looked so very young, so very small. So terrifyingly small.

"I killed them."

Vale restrained his temper. With difficulty. "Those men killed themselves. They knew what would happen if they approached us and yet they continued anyway. You did nothing but defend yourself. That is self-defense, Lele, not murder. It was their decision to attack you and if they don't like the consequences of that decision then they should have made a different choice."

Desperate hope lit the girl's eyes, the kind of hope that believes it will never be fulfilled but dares for one shining moment to hope anyway.

"Do you understand me, Little Sister? This is not your fault. It is not your responsibility. That lies with those older than you, who should have protected you." Valentine, who should have protected her.

"But..." Lea looked at her blood-smeared hands. "I _did_ kill them."

"They died because of you. You didn't kill them."

Lea looked up at him, mouth opening in surprise, eyes widening. Clearly that restatement of the facts had finally gotten through. She blinked back tears and wiped her sleeve across her face, but this time they were tears of relief.

"They were going to hurt us. You've killed, but that doesn't make you a murderer. They deserved it." he said softly, in her ear. "I know they did, you know they did. I'd do it again, but I won't ever like it."

Lea stared down at their hands, her fingers clutching into fists under his. She nodded.

"Good." Vale got off her, relieved. Posing his gaze on the far corner of the room, he noticed he had managed to break the comb.

"Brother, does it get better?"

"I hope so."

Lea swallowed hard. "Does... does it get easier?"

Valentine fought his face to stillness. He knew what his sister meant and wished he didn't. "Pray it never does, Lea."

If the blood could sing, Valentine's would be humming a funeral march.

* * *

If the blood could sing, Darren's would be doing a sonnet.

He had managed to hitch a ride with the messenger to the clan of the East, Ladorn. They would be in Deltland in the spam of a day. That was the point Darren knew they would part ways, as he didn't have any intention of travelling all the way to Asia.

To his right, Ladorn stepped out of the lair for the first time of what felt like entire centuries. She hadn't been ready to march into battle and as such, was one of the few Kaiju who had never stepped foot outside the lair. Who cared about the message, they could go outside… they could… they…

They _were_ outside.

She stared up at the sky. _The sky!_

It was right there, right above her. No glowing crystals, no stalagmites, just an endless blue sky. It was… it was really endless. No walls, no ceiling, nothing. Just an endless white. The sky really was endless above her. The sun really was bright as fire above her. The ground really was covered with sand beneath her.

And the air… the wind… _everything_ … it all felt free.

To her left, the hitchhiking likhte threw his arms to the sky, understanding.

Besides, judging by the dark clouds and distant thunder, a storm was coming. Darren was a Heisha born and raised in a desert, as such, every time rain fell was in itself a cause for celebration. He smiled, eyes to the sky that had given him so much, like the stars and the rain.

How he had missed the rain.

* * *

 **Any questions, opinions, ideas, etc I will gladly answer, my readers!**

 **Kaiju language:**

 **Anii: Okay.**

 **Likha: Female child. Can be given to females you have a close enough relationship.**

 **Likhte: Male child. See above.**

 **This is all for now! Let's see if I can get one more chapter down before I turn 18. Which is the 16th, by the way.**

 **Your dutiful storyteller,**

 **H. E. B.**


	5. Rain

_(He had flashes of a male and a woman together. Brief pictures._

 _…_

 **You are not supposed to see that.)**

* * *

A few weeks after her breakdown, Lea opened the door to the church and stepped in, feeling cool air rush over her, faint with incense. She headed down the aisle between the pews and sat midway, settling in to stare up at the painted murals of the Virgin Mary and Jesus. Lea wasn't religious, but neither was she against it. It simply existed.

So she sat and stared. Calm white lines and orange spots were everywhere as she enjoyed that moment of peace.

"Daughter," a soft voice murmured, and she turned to see the pastor, Father Luke approaching. He was thin with gray hair combed back, face lined with age, and a pair of bright blue eyes that ran over her body, looking alarmed. "What happened?" Lea followed his gaze and realized the sleeve of her shirt gave away some bruising. Stupid. Instead of hiding the bruise-it was too late for that- she smiled up at him, with what she hoped was a smile. Father Luke sat down beside her and stared into her eyes. "You suffer, I can tell," he stated in his gentle voice, and Lea felt her smile melt away. "I'm leaving in a few weeks to lead another congregation..." he ran a hand through his grey hair in agitation. "I don't think I can leave here without knowing you'll be okay."

Lea stared at the murals in silence.

"I know a few people in Nevada who can help you-"

"Foster homes?" she asked. "Orphanages? I've been in one before. A prison for small people."

Father Luke opened his mouth, then shut it.

"My brother takes care of me. He always makes sure I'm okay," Lea said as she stood up. "That's all that matters, but thank you for caring." Vale said to always be polite, even when you were peeling someone's face off. It had been a while before the lesson stuck.

He always did that; like she was a desperate little girl who always needed him to protect her. Maybe it was just because he cared about her too much. He liked to act like she don't know how to do anything on her own and he had to protect her from everything. Why wouldn't he? He was the one she had grown up with and he would always be her brother.

Valentine was only four years older than her. But he always acted like he was her protector, her guardian. Maybe it was because he liked to be the one who always got to order her around. But she guessed he only did that because he loved her, and he has grown up learning how to protect her all the time.

"Has someone left clothes for charity?" Lea inquired then, cheeks red with embarassment. Both she and her brother had enough pride to refuse charity, but the reality was, they couldn't walk around for much longer with their attires without attracting attention. Thus, the charity.

"Yes, there are a lot of articles of clothing in the boxes on the left." Luke answered. It was an unortodox place for them to be, but he had seen enough waifs to have at least two there. "In fact, I believe there are- Oh, and who might you be, kind sir?"

Lea didn't even need to turn around to know who the other was. "Greetings, sir. I do not believe we have met?" a hand was put on her shoulder and Lea relaxed against it. Vale was talking weird again -it was too formal and stiff for her liking, but he insisted in using it when dealing against an adult or a potential threat; Lea didn't know why. "I am Johann, Anna's brother."

Lea didn't miss the way the pastor's gaze was fixed on her brother's hands, and yellow and purple spots started dancing in her vision.

–she was grounded when she stared up into brown eyes, the pressure on her shoulder reassuring and his soul touching hers saying _trust me_.

* * *

Valentine watched her sister go to the other side of the room, searching for fitting clothing for them both.

Ironic, isn't it, the son of a demon in a holy place. But Vale was that only if he considered himself that, he reminded himself with a small shake of the head. This was a holy place, in which believers congregated to devote themselves to their deity even for a few hours. Even so, that wasn't why Vale had felt the need to interrupt his 'hunting' and come all the way here.

A church is a place where people come to confess, and that's what he would do, if only in his head.

He didn't know any more how many people he had killed. Even if he had never held someone at gunpoint, never was him doing the necessary movements to steal the light from their eyes, he still killed them. They were all dead and it was his fault and he killed them. On his dark days he has moments where he would think he really had killed them all, even if some of them didn't know it yet. They were all dead and gone and the only one left was him, watching the life's blood roll of his hands.

He didn't remember the first person he killed. Hardly surprising, since most newborns don't know what death is, much less comprehend killing someone. And in the end Vale really was just an average baby, aside from the fact he was a murderer. He didn't even know it was his fault until much later, when he was thirteen and saw reason. On his bad days he wondered if that made him more evil than his father.

For the seven whole years he spent with the Whites he never killed anyone. He was loved and he loved back and he never killed anyone and looking back now he couldn't help but miss those days. He wondered sometimes if his family knew what he really was, what he was capable of.

The next time he killed someone he was thirteen. Sometimes when he closed his eyes he can see the nameless agent's own wide, sightless eyes staring back, his face forever frozen between confusion and fear.

It was on his guilty days, which are most of them, that he would think about all the rest who died. The ones who Vale killed because he wasn't quick enough or clever enough or strong enough or good enough to stop the continuous attack. And then countless dead in the first Kaiju attack, and he could spend days trying to ignore the voice in his head giving him the exact number. But the in the end it didn't really matter all that much, because he knew it was his fault. It always was.

The last person whose death weighed on him, is one he knew people would think he was crazy for feeling guilty for. It hadn't even happened yet, and it probably never will. Thinking about that possibility would leave him exhilarated and with bone-crushing guilt at the same time. But it was the hardest one to bear, because he would do it on purpose. He had every intention of murdering his father if he ever got the chance. And on his worst days he couldn't remember which one of them has the blood-red eyes.

"Johann – can you show me your hands?" Father Luke asked, his voice pitched low so that it didn't carry. Vale was carried out of his thoughts with a start.

The boy looked at him, then at the door. It took a moment and Luke didn't look away, watching him patiently until the younger finally, hesitantly, offered his hands.

The pastor wished desperately he didn't know these cuts. The sharp lines, the long drag – a belt, which at least was a little better than actual whip if not by much. But worse yet, there were deeper grooves, a weird angular part – and he knew what can make that mark too. A belt buckle.

Swallowing, Father Luke smoothed out Johann's fingers, subtly testing their flexibility – the little finger of his right hand would not straighten at all, it had been broken and healed wrong. The right ring finger was stiff and when Luke straightened it out, it stayed straight – the tendon was cut, an injury which, strangely, had not left mark on Johann.

"Good thing I'm left-handed," the blond child said with a small, nervous smile.

Luke frowned. Whatever had broken Johann's little finger should have left a mark too, but it hadn't. There were… scars that weren't in Johann's hands.

If this was an animal, then Luke would say that someone truly horrible was in progress of taming it – hurting and healing in turns, in shifts, trying to lull it into compliance. He'd seen it before.

They left the soon-to-be abandoned church and headed back to the abandoned house. Lea glanced back to see that Father Luke was in the doorway, watching them. She smiled and waved; the man lifted a hand in response and they turned a few blocks too soon, not wanting the man to know that they lived at an abandoned, nearly-crumbling house.

She had not lied to the pastor, they _had_ been in an orphanage during their infancy, before their…before her family chose her brother.

She stopped when she noticed her brother had stopped walking with her and was staring at something on the ground.

Vale looked over at the wallet without turning his head. It was fat, new looking and best of all - unattended. He made as if to yawn, looking around whilst stretching. _It must belong to some rich fool,_ he thought to himself, granting permission for what he was about to do. Once level with the wallet he bent to tie his newly undone lace. Then he rose and walked away, outwardly nonchalant but internally impatient to discover what he had "won."

"Valentine," Lea said with the same tone of voice their mother used for scoldings. "You just visited a church!"

The scolding that followed made Vale almost regret taking the wallet. Almost.

* * *

 **S** ettle down, settle down. So that is what all of this distrust was about? There are more important matters that do not deserve to be jeopardized, but if an explanation will put your fears to rest... Very well. I will indulge you.

I did what I had to, in order for our kingdom to have a decent king, were I to pass away. He let those things he was limit him. Let his humanity hold him back. Unbelievable really. He was too human. Too bound up in human ideals. Subjugation. Power over people, when he already had power of himself.

Laws. Boundaries. Belief. Everything he has been taught is another noose, another leash. Focus and determination. Magic is, it is not a structure, or a tool. It is a living, breathing force, and it is time he stopped fooling around and started respecting it.

He does not understand. Does not respect that which he is. Crawling on the ground rather than rising up in to the skies. It is sin.

I had not expected the onslaught of differing opinions once my heir's treatment saw the light. Truly, am I the only one who can see things for what they are? It was simply a necessity. Said practice may be frowned upon in our culture, but their response is nothing less of exaggerated. It was merely an attempt to make the boy accept what he is.

And, if I could avenge a death in the process, what of it?

There is a difference between denial and blindness. I would break him, unmake this colossal foolishness and then he will have no choice but to see.

I am, what he could be.

 **A life for a life, though not quite…**

 **A butterfly's life is so brief, after all.**

 **If only he understood. I could be less bored.**

It pains me to see my people can be so short-sighted. We are supposed to be the ones lording over Earth, yet it appears as though we lack the intelligence necessary as to avoid accusing each other based on unfounded claims.

Why would I care about lording over ants? There is no sublime joy to being the only being in a world of insects.

Ah, you better change your ways before I become convinced that you are living proof that the world around me is utterly ignorant. Unworthy of their gifts. Unappreciating of their potential. I must confess, I am disappointed.

We Kaiju are creatures of war. No pesky humans will dare oppose us. The so called 'nuclear weapons'? They will not use it if there is a chance they will harm one of their own, I assure you.

But in one thing you are right: I became too focused in training my heir, and did not pay enough attention to my kingdom. 'Madness', you call what I did. We have a name for that, my subjects, and it is something every single one of you have felt. Even so, I admit I became extremist. To put it frankly, I am a little put off by my own 'madness'. I was afr- concerned that I would slip, allow myself to become too reckless. The thrill of power, the sense of fulfilling one's own insatiable bloodlust... I do tend to get carried away, you see.

 _"I could help you, you know,"_ a murmur in his head, _"Look around you – this cannot possibly be what you want. You rule a world of ghosts."_

 **"But I rule."**

 _"All empires fall, Father. Even yours. Nothing lasts forever."_

 **"I do. I promised her eternity, and, if you accept the error of your ways, I can give you eternity too, Duncan. By my side."**

 _"On my knees at your feet."_

* * *

It was…weird. That was the best word that he could use. Or at least, it was by far the easiest. There were probably other words he could use— one that would cover the situation a bit more. But they would also make everything snap together and make sense, and not stay muddled like he wanted them to. He had worked hard to get into this state. A state of denial, or ignorance at what was really happening. If that was all ruined, he wouldn't be able to keep idly writing in his blog. He would buckle down, crashing to the floor faster than a three-hundred pound weight. He would fall over back into the fit of crying and hysterics, and severe, severe anger. Already, he was wavering on the brink. He couldn't take any risks.

It got underneath his skin. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and cry and turn around and throw the closest thing to him across the room. He wanted to throw something against the wall and watch it break and shatter into a million pieces, so that he could officially be able to look at something, and know that, at least in this one instance, he would be the one that was better off. But he restrained himself.

But weird was certainly a way to describe it.

Matt ceased all movement, cellphone suspended in midair. Eyes frozen in a stare unseeing at the wall. Breaths coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

He could do something he _could_.

He walked aimlessly, reaching his destination by muscle memory alone.

 _(Knock, knock, knock)_

From the window he could see a table, where a spider slowly digested a fly, and, apparently deciding that there was nothing of interest in the house besides that persistent knocking, headed back up to the roof, and disappeared.

 _(Knock, knock, knock.)_

The knocking continued – three polite raps, every five seconds, made with metronomic precision.

 _(Knock, knock, knock.)_

Matt stared at the front door, staring straight ahead as though he'd found a prophecy written in the wood grain. He raised his fist.

 _(Knock, knock, knock.)_

He lowered his fist again.

He raised his fist.

 _(Knock, knock, knock.)_

He lowered his fist again.

He raised his fist.

 _(Knock, knock, knock.)_

He lowered his fist again.

He raised-

The doorknob turned. The door swung open.

"So, you have been knocking...pretty regularly...for about twenty minutes straight." She glanced down at Matt's knuckles, which were slowly staining purple. "Man, does not that hurt?"

Matt said nothing. Naya raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and went on. "Sorry I took so long. Usually when someone knocks I just figure it is someone forgetting this house has been abandoned or something, but at this point they would have given up, or, you know. Said something. Literally anything."

Matt remained silent.

"You must really need me for something."

Matt nodded.

"Well, sorry, I cannot help you." She gingerly stepped around Matt and headed for the stairs. "I have a lot of questions to avoid, you know how it is." She stopped at the door and turned back to Matt, who was watching her with eyes wide. "And put some ice on that hand."

* * *

 _(Knock, knock, kno-)_

"Hello, Matt," Naya opened the door, her grin this time slightly strained. "You are not giving up, huh?"

Matt decided not to answer.

"So, you have been knocking...pretty regularly...for a while now." She glanced down at Matt's knuckles, which were covered in sunset-colored bruises. "And you are still at it."

Matt nodded.

"Well, I admire your perseverance, human, but I need to show up to my parents and such. It would not do good if they discovered where I was."

She passed the boy, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and walked off.

* * *

 _(Knock, knock, kn-)_

"Alright, knock it off." Naya's blue eyes were shining with irritation. "I know you need my help with something, but cannot it wait? Oh my King, what even makes you think I can do anything?"

Matt angled his head slightly. The way the light fell on his face turned his stare accusatory.

"...heh heh heh. Okay." Naya stuck his hands back in her pockets. "I guess that goes without saying. So here is the twist ending, kiddo." She leaned in close. "The answer is no."

She did a nimble half-step around Matt and went down the front stairs, whistling tunelessly as she walked. Matt watched her go.

"Take it from me – you have to learn to be satisfied with what you have got. That little piece of advice is all the help I will give." She paused with her hand on the door handle. "Do not waste any more of your time with this. You will get sick of it _way_ before I do." She got outside, turned, waved, and ran out.

Matt stood in the empty house, listening to the clock tick.

He cracked his knuckles, and winced at the pain.

* * *

The fifth visit.

"Hello. Still at it?" Naya held up a small memo pad, then shoved it in her pocket. "I figured I could keep a running tally of your visits. That way, at least one of us can have a good time." She slid around Matt and headed for the stairs. "Well, see you in a while."

The front door opened and shut.

* * *

The eleventh visit.

"Look at that, I think we already broke double digits! Feels like it took no time at all. For me, anyway. I bet it is getting real boring for you." She insinuated around Matt and headed for the stairs.

She shut the door slightly harder than usual.

* * *

The twenty-third visit.

Naya ambled down the stairs, hands in her pockets. "Our little tally is going to fill up the page at this rate. No worries. Plenty of space left in my notebook." Naya pulled the memo pad out one pocket and waggled it in Matt's direction. "Come on, human. Don't you have anything better to do?"

She left anyway. Matt stood there for some time, his fists clenched at his sides. His right hand was becoming badly swollen.

* * *

The fortieth visit. He had managed to sneak in and was knocking on her bedroom door.

Naya's bedroom door swung open.

"Hey, Matthew," she said, opening the front door. "Bye, Matthew."

Matt did a double-take from one doorway to another, mouth hanging agape. By the time he worked out what had just happened, Naya was already out and away.

* * *

The sixty-third visit.

Naya strutted out of her room whistling through her teeth; a jaunty, jazzy tune that, somehow, didn't sound like the kind of song you'd hear if you were having a good time. She passed her betrothed without a word, slid down the banister of her stairs, moonwalked across the living room carpet, and held one, final note, arms outstretched, jazz hands shaking. She froze stiff in that pose. Matt stared down at her.

Naya stuck her hands back in her pockets and left the house.

Matt sighed, turned back to the bedroom, and jumped at the sudden noise. The front door popped open and the gleaming brass end of a trombone popped out. She played three warbling notes, a dismal, heart-rending coda, and then shut the door again.

* * *

The eightieth visit.

Matt had switched to his left hand for knocking long ago. And while Naya no longer kept him waiting for nearly as long – in fact, she often popped the door open at the first knock – he still had to tap his knuckles on the wood as gently as possible. The handle turned. The door swung open.

Naya bedroom was empty. But on the floor was a single sheet of lined notebook paper. Matt bent over and carefully picked it up. In Naya's thick, loopy print was written the words:

 _I have gone fishing_

 _you know the spot_

Matt stared at the paper for several seconds before folding it up and sticking it in the back pocket of his shorts.

The chill bit at his bare legs and he had to walk half the town's length with his arm over his eyes before his vision adjusted to the light, but the fresh air was a welcome relief from that miasma of socks and sadness. He passed by Grillere's, caught a whiff of food greasy enough to lubricate an engine, and felt his stomach rumble. He hadn't eaten or slept since the first visit. His vision was starting to swim a bit.

Eventually he arrived at the riverbank. Naya was not there. Instead, Matt saw a sheet of paper, held down by a rock. Matt blew two white jets of steam from his nostrils, then bent down over the note.

 _I have stopped fishing_

 _find me at home_

The skin under Matt's eye twitched. He folded the note and put it in his pocket with the first, then headed back.

He re-entered his girl's house. The place was still quiet as ever. The door was shut again.

Matt climbed the stairs, approached Naya's bedroom, and knocked. The door swung open.

On the floor was another note. Matt picked it up.

 _Gone again. I need to eat those fishes_

 _sorry, kid_

 _maybe you should give up for today and try (turn over)-_

Matt turned the paper over.

 _-to marrow._

The rest of the page was taken up by a sketch of Naya's winking face.

It was quite well-drawn.

With great deliberation and infinite patience, Matt withdrew the other two notes, put them on top of the third, and crumbled all the paper into a ball. He walked downstairs, approached the garbage can, raised the ball high over his head, and dunked it.

* * *

"We'll keep looking, but we simply can't find the-"

 _(Click.)_

 _..._

 _(Clatter.) (Crunch.) (Crunch.) (Crunch.) (Crunch.) (CRUNCH.)_

* * *

The ninety sixth visit.

Matt didn't look good – his skin was pale, his hair more askew than usual, and strange tics fired off in his face and limbs as his body struggled to stay upright. He wasn't sure how long he'd been awake at this point, but he felt very aware of each muscle and how much they wanted to turn to jelly.

His left hand didn't look too bad, but the skin on his right had turned shiny and taut and sent needles of pain up his arm with every flex.

Naya glanced up and saw Matt standing there in the middle of the room. She glanced back at the door. She glanced up again, and emitted a sound not unlike a balloon being rubbed on a windowpane.

"Ah! You are still here! I mean, that is fine! It is not like I told you to leave or anything! My house is your house! Even though it is really not. Ha ha. Ha." She looked around and added, "Ha."

The Kaiju teen approached the boy. "I am no expert in humans… but you look terrible."

Matt made no indication that he'd heard her. He stood in place, his head bowed. Naya crept a little closer, and saw the shattered remains of his phone lying at his feet.

"Oh. Oh no. Your phone." Matt's head snapped up, but Naya's attention was elsewhere. "You must have accidentally dropped it. And then. Accidentally stepped on it several times." She kneaded her jacket between her claws, made an unconvincing smile. "Did you not like the color...?"

Matt shook his head, held out his palms in apology. He knelt down and tried to gather up the shards, pushing the phone's shattered casing together like a jigsaw, but they slipped through his fingers and clattered back to the floor. His shoulders started to shake, but he kept at it until Naya finally crept over and took the pieces from his trembling hands.

"No, i-it is okay! Sometimes things just break mysteriously." Naya said with uncharacteristic stammer as she watched the boy's control over his emotions rapidly wane. "I bet I can fix up your human tool. Stars, I bet it will not even take me thirty minutes!" Matt stood back up as Naya pocketed the phone's remains. "I used to take things apart and then time myself on putting them back together again."

Matt wrapped his arms around himself and nodded. His hair hung in a black curtain over his eyes.

"You can relax here while I work, if you would like. There are sodas in the fridge and plenty of historical viewing material in my room. You could stay up there for days if you want to, stars know I have...wait, why are you shivering?"

More than just shivering, Matt's whole body vibrated like he was about to detonate. He clutched his arms tight enough for his nails to leave half-moon indents in his flesh. His breathing hoarsened, then turned into a sort of hiccup that made his whole chest jump. As Naya watched, tears began to trickle out from behind his hair.

"Oh. Um. Okay. This is happening now." Her eyes darted around frantically; her skin turned a pale grey. "Um. Um. Um."

Matt's tears kept coming, despite his best efforts to hold them in. His hiccups deepened into sobs. He pressed his sleeve over his face; the fabric rapidly started to darken. He cried like someone who'd forgotten how. He was bent double from the effort of it.

Naya looked down at her hands as if noticing them for the first time. She took a deep breath.

"Alright. Okay, Naya, you can do this..."

She sidled up to Matt and held him close. "Uh. There, there?"

The boy went stiff for a moment, and then rested his face against her shoulder and kept sobbing. Naya could feel the heat of him straight through her scales. She frowned, experimentally rubbed the small of his back.

"It is all right," she said. "Come to think of it, when I was watching you I thought you looked kind of depressed. It has been really hard on you, huh?" She patted his head. "K'Hal, come on. You have got me now, r-right? We will get through this together. That is what friends are for." A pause. "Uh, y-you are crying a lot harder. All of a sudden. I, I do not know if that means I am doing a good job or a bad one. Should I let go?"

Matt clutched at her and started to wail. His body convulsed in her grip from the force of his sobs. That high, lost sound echoed through the house. Half of Naya's shirt had become quite soggy.

Naya gave him another awkward massage and looked at the mirror behind them. She saw the two of them there, in each other's embrace, tear-stains spreading down her sleeves. She saw the guilt in her own expression. She looked away.

"It is all right," she said again, quieter. "We can stay here as long as you need."

The silence was broken by a long, luxurious growl from Matt's gut. Naya glanced down, then back up.

She said, "Would you like to go eat something?"

Matt nodded.

* * *

"You know," said Naya, "it looked like you were way tenser in there than when you first beat me. Either you did not think I was a threat, _which would be a terrible mistake_ , or you must have been really stressed about something." She narrowed her eyes. "Are you feeling better now?"

Matt wiped sweat off his face and nodded. Naya gave an approving grunt.

"Good. You have got to get that passion out into the world where it can actually help someone. Fight some good fights. Or in your case, go and snuggle something _really aggressively,_ I do not know." She smirked. "If you would prefer, I am always up for a rematch. And next time, I will not be so nice. Except I will be. Because I guess we are friends now?"

"Yeah." Matt nodded. "I guess we are."

From his seat he had a view of the entrance, only couples came and left. He fidgeted, fingers drumming against the table. With nothing else to do he perused the menu, regardless of what was there he'd be ordering butter chicken and rice.

"Do they have something with fish?" Naya asked. She had been kind enough to offer to pay –Matthew didn't want to know where she got the money.

Matt dutifully scanned the menu. "No. No. No. No. Aren't those poisonous? No. No. No. They eat that stuff? No. No. No. No... ah, here we go."

After ordering their food, he let himself soak in the ambient music for a few moments, wondering what the words were and drinking in the fragranced air.

"So…with our contract, will I have to….eeehhh…" Matt stumbled for the right words. "Make offspring with you?" it was something he dearly wished she would say 'no' to.

Naya smiled slyly at him, noticing his flustered expression. "Of course you will. First comes the love, then comes the marriage, then a couple of eggs…"

"What the hell!" Matt exclaimed, shrinking back when he realized most of the restaurant was looking at him. "Sorry," he leaned closer and continued in a much softer voice. "Eggs?!"

Naya blinked, tucking a strand of very dark grey hair behind her ear. "Yes, eggs. Why so shocked?"

The restaurant was full. Matt looked around at the busy tables. An old couple eating side by side, one glass of wine each, studiously bent over their meals. A group of young women in their thirties collapsing with helpless giggles as a stern woman dining alone nearby looked on and frowned. A family with five kids. The noise level was high, and Matt explained what he meant as he saw Naya's face morph into a mixture of shock and disgust.

"I will have to carry the egg inside of me? For nine months?!"

"Well, if you shifted forms maybe the _baby_ could be hurt…Anyway, that's not why I spent all of three days waiting for you." Matt cut her off before she could start lamenting. Naya immediately perked up in curiosity.

"I want you to go look for my siblings. Or get some of your Gomorradons to do so at the very least."

Naya stopped eating to regard him with an annoyed expression. "Why would I do that? Let me tell you how do find them, _likhte_ , watch the news for a very big disaster in a town. They'll probably be there."

Matt was getting desperate. "You're exaggerating! Vale might, but Lea… She wouldn't hurt a fly!"

This gave Naya brief pause. "What? I have never understood that phrase—who _would not_ hurt a fly? Flies are _really_ annoying!"

"Yes! That one has always confused me, too!" Matt smiled back at her before getting back on track. "Please, Naya. I want to have them back. Both of them. My brother's no monster… even if he's no saint either."

"Let me guess," Naya said with a sardonic smirk. "He just wants to do the right thing."

"No, no that's not it." Matt smirked right back at the thought of her being wrong. "He's got not a lick of sense if we're involved, even though I know he only wants to keep us safe. Sometimes he can be unbelievably naïve…and he is the heir to the Kaiju throne somehow. He makes you love him even while he rips out your heart."

* * *

"Which one of you is Mee?"

The fifteen-or-so Gomorradons under her command quieted until only one was jumping up and down, chirping in excitement. "Okay, I order you to look for the Prince and Princess of the Kaiju and tell me their location as soon as possible."

The small critter was gone in an instant, the others dispersing, looking for threats. Naya went back to the front door of the restaurant, only to not see Matthew there.

What she did see were footprints headed in the direction of his place of staying – evenly spaced at first, then growing off-kilter and unsteady. Then she saw the vaguely pumpkin-shaped indentation where Matt had finally lost consciousness and face-planted into the ground. His head had lolled a bit away from it.

Naya sighed, and moved in the direction of her fiancé.

* * *

Lea sighed as she watched the rain from behind the window, newly clad in a pair of green trousers and a purple sweater.

 _"It's raining; it's pouring._ _  
 _The old man is snoring._  
 _He went to bed and bumped his head,_  
 _And he couldn't get up in the morning."__

"Either he got totally wasted last night or he has a severe concussion…" Vale chimed in from his bed, from where he was practicing his firebreath.

"Say, brother, would you like to play a game?" Lea asked, bored enough already. At the very least they had enough food and water stored, coupled with the clothes she had managed to get.

And, it would prevent Valentine from whining. Being cooped up plus rain equaled a very unhappy dragon boy.

"What kind of game?"

Lea stood and placed her hands on her hips, "Let's play pretend!" she darted to one side of the room and reached out for a red woolen hat out of the pile of clothes, putting it on her head. "I'll be the princess, and you can be my knight who saves me from the dragons and stuff!"

Having flashes from when Lea was litter than she was now, it took the blond no time to decide to play along. "Alright," Vale bowed on one knee, "Noku na Kirame, ei na mekshisukai."

* * *

Darren sighed in happiness as he walked, the rain making his clothes wet and heavy and sticking his long hair to his face. He didn't care in the slightest. Being outside plus rain equaled one very happy Kaiju teen.

Judging by the other's comments about how cold it was, how strange the humans were yadda yadda yadda, it seemed like Darren was the only one enjoying himself. Oh well, sucks to be them. They were now endlessly bickering about their latest hunt, which honestly made Darren feel sick. So much time living among humans...

"How could you _do_ that to me?"

"You said we could do anything we wanted."

"Yeah, but not killing a family! They had so many children one could have escaped and ratted us out!"

"Fine. Next time you'll do the hunt."

"I'll _do_ the hunt, gladly!"

 _ **Shut up.**_

 _Shut up_

 _shut up_

 _shut_ _ **up**_

 _ **SHUT UP**_

 _ **SHUT UP**_

"Dyllon," he had to be called a few times, so unused he was when responding to his real name. Ladorn was besides him, green hair wet and yellow eyes excited. The messenger from the King had anticipation written all over her features. "Dyllon, show us your power!"

"Pass." Darren stated blandly, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. Tall mountains of buildings loomed above them, and if humans saw it strange that such an eclectic group of people were travelling under the rain so late at night, they kept it to themselves. "I'm not in the mood, besides the humans might see." he hoped the others could see it as a valid point, though remembering muttered comments about how everything was 'too quiet', it might not last as much as he had hoped.

"Is the full moon tonight?" Darren asked as Ladorn opened her mouth yet again.

"...What?" one of the two males that accompanied them asked, scratching the back of his head in confusion -a very human gesture, Darren noted.

"Is the full moon tonight?"

"No."

"Then you're out of luck. Heisha's powers are directly influenced by the moon, we are at our strongest when the moon is full. If there's no moon, we are no better than your average Kaiju. Do your research!" he snapped, going back to watch the grey clouds crying over them. "I was tricking you. Do you feel it, the moon's power? It's nowhere near full yet. When it is, my magic spikes up in such a way akin to bloodlust in a battle, addicting." Darren shivered in delight.

"Besides, my dear companions, blood cells are 55% blood plasma which in turn is up to 95% water. That little fact allow us to control our target in the case we're not experienced with Mind Magic, and even freeze or dehydrate their blood. But, if you want me to show you my abilities..."

"No! No, no, we shall wait for the full moon," Ladorn didn't even try to hide her unease. Darren suppressed a smirk, he knew he was being needlessly aggressive, but Stars those three were annoying.

He couldn't wait for the moment they could part ways. He had lost his family -his parents, his Uncle- now he only had his friends to find.

And he would find them, or he wasn't called Darren Dyllon Wakeman.

* * *

 **Any questions, opinions, ideas, etc I will gladly answer, my readers!**

 **Kaiju language:**

 **Noku na Kirame, ei na mekshisukai: You are my Queen, I am your servant.**

 **So...I couldn't write a new chapter before I turned 18. My mistake.**

 **Your dutiful storyteller,**

 **H. E. B.**


	6. Breathe

_(We know how all this will end, do we not?_

 _…_

 _ **So why do you bother to keep going…?)**_

* * *

 **The Blog of Matthew White**

15th June:

 **Untitled**

So here we are. I started this blog a while ago. Nothing interesting happening besides the Kaijucalypse

* * *

 **Comments:**

* * *

Has someone been able to find anyone?

 **TamerOfBeasts 15 June 15:45**

Your mom reminded my Dad to go pick up Kenny before we left. He's living with us now, though my Dad's nerves are up in the clouds. You know, with two daughters and all.

 **MonsterLover 15 June 16:03**

Ah, that's great Isabel! You guys enjoying the hotel, or house, or whenever you're staying? I'm here with Lee trying to teach her how a phone works XD.

 **TamerOfBeasts 15 June 16:17**

 ** _(See 14 replies)_**

* * *

Since when do u keep a blog, Mat?

 **Wen Damians 20 June 13:08**

Since two months ago Wendy. I was bored.

 **TamerOfBeasts 20 June 13:14**

DON'T CALL ME WENDY YOU VIRGIN!11!

 **Wen Damians 20 June 13:33**

* * *

In case you're reading this, Val, Lea: Seriously, give some signals of life. You're driving your brother insane.

 **Rachel Damians 1 July 16:29**

They've survived worse. I know they're out there somewhere.

 **TamerOfBeasts 5 July 05:20**

* * *

Who was baking today? I think I smelled apple pie when I picked you up Matt.

 **Naya-Lee 6 July 11:11**

It was me. Who are you?

 **Rachel Damians 25 July 11:34**

The glorious Mrs. Damians. I am Matt's girlfriend.

 **Naya-Lee 25 July 11:56**

* * *

I know you're reading this, Valen.

 **KennyRogers** **26 July 18:20**

Well, I'm assuming you're reading this. None of MEGTAF's men have been able to spot you.

 **KennyRogers** **26 July 18:49**

You're good.

 **Kenny Rogers** **27 July 15:10**

Or you're really dead.

 **Wen Damians** **28 July** **12:00**

WENDY!

 **TraceTheSteps 28 July 12:01**

* * *

That's just ridiculous. The deal was "Stay and I won't kill all your friends", not "Get left behind and die and stay dead and I won't kill all your friends". Listening comprehension, plz?

 **TamerOfBeasts 15 August 14:24**

* * *

Emma tells me there's a possibility for you to not be here. Which, she tells me, implies dying. And staying dead.

 **TamerOfBeasts 16 August 15:52**

But then Emma's an insufferable pedant.

 **TamerOfBeasts 16 August 16:00**

If you call me that again, I'll have the locks changed while your out.

 **Em'n'M 16 August 16:09**

* * *

Does somebody want to do something? I dont care we live so far away Im bored. COME ON!

 **MonsterLover 30 August 15:29**

* * *

I'm getting tired of this inactivity when our side is involved. this is getting absurd.

 **TraceTheSteps 30 September 17:20**

* * *

I might just go and enlist in MEGTAF soon.

 **TamerOfBeasts 20 October 01:12**

* * *

Honestly.

 **TamerOfBeasts 20 October 02:52**

* * *

For real.

 **TamerOfBeasts 20 October 04:21**

* * *

You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?

 **TamerOfBeasts 22 October 11:12**

* * *

...Would you?

 **TamerOfBeasts 25 October 12:01**

* * *

Teh boredom. It HURTS.

 **Naya-Lee 27 October 12:45**

Why are you writing on my blog when you're sitting downstairs?!

 **TamerOfBeasts 27 October 13:20**

I. AM. BORED. And I'm wondering what would happen if I threw your magazines to the fan...

 **Naya-Lee 27 October 13:25**

OK OK I'm coming down.

 **TamerOfBeasts 27 October 13:26**

* * *

Today is the day!

 **TamerOfBeasts 31 October 10:00**

* * *

I've got the whole evening planned out.

 **TraceTheSteps 31 October 10:00**

* * *

Tonight we dine in HELL!1

 **Em'n'M 31 October 10:05**

* * *

That had to come out. Sorry!

 **Em'n'M 31 October 10:10**

* * *

You know what happens tonight?

 **MonsterLover 25 May 10:02**

We go Trick or Treating with Matt and company. Didn't you get the memo?

 **KennyRogers 31 October 10:03**

The more the merrier! Besides I'm sick of listening to the adults chatting :(

 **TamerOfBeasts 31 October 10:10**

* * *

I know some of you are pretty far away, so, all of you guys, let me know if you're coming by, like, 10pm.

 **TamerOfBeasts 25 May 15:12**

* * *

 _(Comment deleted by owner)_

It's funny. I think he's still trying to hold onto hope. It's kinda pitiful, given it's been 4 months, but he's just so _hopeful_. Happiest he's been in months, probably.

 **Wen Damians 31 October 16:01**

* * *

 _(Comment deleted by owner)_

Heartbreaking, really.

 **Wen Damians 31 October 16:02**

Naya, fetch me my gun

 **TamerOfBeasts 31 October 16:04**

Temper temper temper

 **Naya-Lee 31 October 16:11**

* * *

Lee, Izzy and Kenny, we're waiting for you ^_~

 **TamerOfBeasts 31 October 16:15**

* * *

Well?

 **TamerOfBeasts 31 October 18:32**

* * *

I'm waiting.

 **TamerOfBeasts 31 October 18:54**

* * *

I said 10 pm, didn't I?

 **TamerOfBeasts 31 October 19:31**

* * *

Cutting it kind of close, aren't you?

 **TamerOfBeasts** **31 October 20:25**

* * *

Trick or treat.

 **V &L 31 October 21:05**

* * *

Four months had passed since they set out, and a few days ago they had finally arrived at said town.

Fall was coming. The air was cooler with a tincture of earthiness. It was nice.

Darren...he didn't know what to do. In a night it would be the full moon (for the fourth time in a row, he noted) and he didn't want to show the others his abilities. Not when he was so out of practice. Not when he knew what he would do if he wanted to impress them -which he wasn't-. Not until he had found at least a familiar face and made a plan to ditch the three Kaiju that headed to the East.

He had been thinking a lot about what was to come. About what had already happened. It was difficult to get his mind set in the present when everything was so unstable.

Valentine, Lea, the war. His uncle, his parents, his home.

Apparently he could blame evolutionary biology for his painful memories. He wished he could put them in the garbage can where they belonged and forget. Or better yet, bury them deep underground, where he had once lived. At school, Darren remembered that a teacher had told him that their brains (human brains) are hardwired from caveman times to remember the bad stuff more to help keep you alive. Which was ironic really, now what he needed was the good stuff, the fun stuff, the uplifting and hopeful.

His breath seemed to stutter in his lungs before he let it go, feeling the tension drain from his body. His breathing returned to normal and he felt as if he could face the problem.

A single golden leaf pirouetted down an invisible spiral of breeze, spinning through the air as it let itself be carried down. It shook slightly, as if it could have been whisked away any second by the grip of an icy wind, but it kept floating down the twirling course. It blew past his face and landed lightly on the ground, the shiny, vibrant color standing out against the ambers and bronzes beneath it.

Not even a moment later, he smelled a whiff of blood, and knew that somewhere near a Kaiju was feasting on some poor passerby.

* * *

The middle White child was awoken in the middle of the night for what felt like an electric shock. He had been feeling them as the end of his little 'experiment' approached, though he never would have guessed it would take so little time.

He felt his magic retreating once again to his midsection, more specifically his entire digestive system. He let it. He hadn't eaten properly in what felt like weeks, and didn't want to risk being hungry enough to lash out on something. Or, God forbid, someone.

...Would it be alright to test it now? Yes, yes, and it would be better right now, because he wouldn't be alone otherwise. Lea, when she was awake, was extremely clingy, not liking him going anywhere without her. She was scared, yes, but not of his sibling.

He hoped.

As he got out of bed, he could feel Lea slowly dozing off. From the week of barely getting any sleep thanks to her new nightmares of- of killing those people in the lab, he had expected this. As her head lolled onto the pillow, her eyelids finally slipping closed; he smiled. The rest of her slowly leaned further beneath the covers, the rest of her body going limp. She looked so vulnerable and childlike. Her breaths were even and calming, the expression on her face no longer stressed but relaxed. Her eyelids fluttered, but she seemed too out of it to notice.

He hoped Lea was in deep enough of a dream to not wake up until he returned.

Valentine silently slipped away and started walking the street, locating the nearest tall building. A few blocks away, he found one that he could get on top into if he took advantage of the balconies with a few jumps. As he walked there, caramel leaves tumbled to life by brisk autumnal notes that roused them from slumber, requesting a last wistful dance before a wintry embrace would claim them.

Vale had just gotten to the top the building when he paused. He'd be opening his wings for the first time in what felt like an eternity. For the first time since that... _awful_...dream.

It would be fine. He'd open his wings and he would fly and it would be fine. It would be just fine. After a few false starts, winching at the slight pain that came with having two appendages tearing through his back, his wings were free in the open air. Right after, pain assaulted his senses. He immediately froze, having remembered he was very high up. Nevertheless, he could guess who it was.

He exhaled a careful breath. Swallowed.

"Are you intending to kill me now?" his voice remained steady.

It always happened this way. He knew the world was dangerous, for him and for Lea ever more so. He did not want to kill anybody. But the truth was, if anyone with bad intentions touched his sister…

It wasn't bloodlust, but the need, the urge to protect someone that was younger and family and _mineminemine_.

He did not want to kill. But every time his control started to wane, he slipped through the cracks. Always for a very short time, but enough for the deed to be done. It happened more than once, that he, that _they_ had killed.

 _Again._

 _And_ a _g_ a _i_ n.

 _And **a**_ **g _a_ i _n_**.

" _Are you intending to kill me now?"_ he asked again. No answer, and he felt his heartbeat speeding up. He couldn't do this, couldn't keep him at bay, couldn't protect his sister. Well he could, technically speaking, but his father would always overpower him, if only for a few minutes.

Even so, Valentine had managed to get away from having to speak to him twice already. Even so, he could feel how furious the other was. Even so, he felt as if he would never be safe again. His insides burned and recoiled at the very thought. He felt his fingers already heating and blistering, the sharp pain making his head ring painfully. His mouth grew dry, tasting as if he had eaten raw flesh, and for a moment he wanted to turn tail and run. Rather, his body was frozen and rooted, giving him an acute incapability to move forward or turn away.

 _" **Duncan. Let me make something very, very clear. You will always answer me, from now on."**_

The wave of energy that came from his progenitor was a violent wave of pulsating lightning. It slammed through him, coming off hot and then chilling his bones seconds later.

 _"Stop- stop-"_

 _" **Not until I am certain that you understand. I will brook no more refusals. I have had my fill of your childish defiance. Deny me and suffer pain."**_

 _"Please-"_

 ** _"Are you scared?"_**

 _"No."_ he lied, and felt the flavor of it echo between them.

 _ **"Liar."**_

 _"I'm not scared of you."_

 ** _"No?"_**

Valentine didn't deign him with an answer. He looked into his memory, as quick as he could, something that could hep him. He just couldn't deal with it anymore. He was just a kid, he couldn't handle this. That- that screech Darren had used against him so long ago. And so he did, and so he screeched, hoping that it would make him go away.

For a moment, there was silence. But only for a moment.

 ** _"You… you dare fight me… when you know that I control you, that I own you - when we are so close to the end - you dare disobey?"_**

 _"Yes."_

 ** _"That was beyond unwise. Now tell me, what does a flightless butterfly do?"_**

It wasn't immediately obvious what he meant, but still panic flooded him as he gasped for a breath he did not need, stumbling half-blind. And as he tried to push him out, as he tried to realize just where had the other gotten a chance to get to him, a sudden shift in his surroundings made his panic increase tenfold and the other to vanish.

Because he was falling over seven stories from where he had lost his footing. And he was scared.

Breathe.

 _One two three_

Breathe.

 _One two three_

 **Think.**

He listened to his heartbeat

 _t_ h _u_ d _t_ h _u_ d _t_ h _u_ d

And he just breathed.

 **In**

 _Out_

 **Breathe**

through the pain

saw his life play

past his fears

that led

 _To my own destruction_.

 **T _h_ i _n_ k  
**gritted teeth  
try not to  
 _tremble_

Breathe

 _one two three_

He held on to his fear

But he did not let it _b_ e _t_ r _a_ y him  
 _swallow it back  
don't let it rise_

He let **chaos** reign  
if only for a moment  
inside his mind

 _Wild eyes_  
 **quickened breath  
** t _e_ r _r_ o _r_ that consumed him.

'Cos if he failed

 **What** could he do?

He was always the one who was

V _i_ o _l_ e _n_ t

 **D _a_ n _g_ e _r_ o _u_ s**

U _n_ p _r_ e _d_ i _c_ t _a_ b _l_ e

When all he _wanted_ and **wants** to do

Is protect her

From all the ones

Who might do her **harm**

And _he_ would be

 **U**

 **S**

 **E**

 **L**

 **E**

 **S**

 **S**

at it

if he does _n't_ survive this

He flapped as the wind whipped past him in search of the dark sky, nearly black. Stars twinkled and looked down upon him in amusement. Behind him, the building. Above, the stars. Surrounding him, air. And he rose.

It felt so right.

It had _w_ o _r_ k _e_ d.

He held back a cheer even as he made his way across the town and up above the clouds. They surrounded him, enveloped him, comforted. A smile made its way onto his face.

 _This_ was true freedom. As much as he would want to share his gift of flight with his little sister, it was nice to keep it to just himself. He felt utterly invincible when he succumbed to his power and the cool air. It was _amazing_.

He floated slowly, looking up at the stars for a long while. He closed his eyes…and stopped.

And Vale fell.

 **Breathe.**

 _One two three_

He dove face first towards the ground. He broke through the misty clouds and rolled mid-air, flipping and performing intricate turns. A full grin stretched across his face as he continued to fall, his golden hair waving and his now green eyes glowing bright. He gave a joyous whoop and spread his limbs out into a star.

The buildings became closer and at the last moment, he let every pore, every cell in his body, ignite with his powers, his wings actually answering his command, and he rocketed in the air, flying over buildings. He shot a ball of fire towards the sky and it exploded into tiny fireworks that lit up the darkness.

 _The world is beautiful, the world is mine,_ he thought, wings jutting from his back as he took his final spin. His face was facing the stars and the moon and he was walking on air, once, twice, thrice.

 _The world is mine,_ he thought again, the world washing with red as he released his transformation.

 _That_ was true freedom.

* * *

As always, it begins in an Eden.

 _A decedent bedroom. A moonlit chapel. A shadowed alley. Countless others. The last, his own version of Eden._

An autumn orchard. Where the world is green and gold and pumpkin-orange, but the sky is sapphire blue— cerulean and deep and punctured by ruby red, and he loves the irony of this truth. He watches the crimson leaves as they drift, reflected in the sky and half-hidden eyes. The rake pauses; a book lowers. Chilled, motionless air hangs heavily between the unusual pair, smelling strongly of apples.

 _The first Eve barely needed prompting—barely needed a taste. All he had to do was dangle the forbidden fruit before her, coating its bitter flesh with syrupy lies and saccharine promises and sweet nothings. Beady eyes would wrinkle, filling with desperate yearnings; pudgy hands would grab and cling and pull at him, as if afraid of letting go. And in the end, she took everything he offered and more: willingly swallowing his seed, his poison. Yes, that Eve surrendered immediately, completely._

Delicate white hands drift momentarily sideways, as if in curiosity. Small fingers curl around a fallen apple, previously concealed by the grass: glossy and scarlet and half-rotten, its bottom mushy and turning brown.

 _The only thing he found more repulsive than the woman herself was how_ easy _she was to corrupt._

The apple is disgusting and beautiful, just like the woman that holds it. And even as the King advises against the dirtying of those fingers, his lips are taut and smiling, and there is amusement in her coffee-colored eyes.

 _The next Eve was corrupt from the start, but masked it better than most: veiled herself in holy robes, hid behind screens and confessionals and abbey way doors. She was quite the amusing enigma, this delectable morsel— praying for piety even as she willingly cavorted with the Devil. And he was only too willing to christen the altar over and over and over again, with liquids far less holy than water or wine._

His wife snorts and gripes and holds the fruit more firmly, as if to mock him—but no, it only makes the demon's lengthy leer widen, for nothing could possibly make him happier than seeing his spouse succumb to the traditional temptations of the treat.

 _The third was a prostitute. She never understood that love and sex were not synonyms, not equivalents. And he was not about to explain it to her._

The scattered leaves rustle as he abandons his work, setting the rake against the trunk of the apple tree and kneeling before his wife. He takes those fragile hands in his own, pealing one away from the rounded fruit and licking the amber dewdrop that has pearled on the tip of the woman's ring finger.

The woman arches an eyebrow, wearing a façade of confusion. But the devil can see the swirling emotions behind those eyes; he can feel the heady blood racing through her crisscrossed veins. He can taste the woman's young flesh: the flavor of white rose and cantarella lingering on his tongue even after he removes the finger from his mouth.

 _There was a fourth Eve, and a fifth, and a sixth, and so many more that he had long-since lost count. They were nothing special, anyway: there was no fight, no challenge, in damning them. Only pleasure, pleasure, pleasure. And now there was a new Eve, a virgin Eve: almost an adult. On the precipice of committing the Original Sin, looking down into the dark depths of Hell with terror-fused desire glittering in his enchanted eyes._

"Forbidden fruits taste the sweetest," he murmurs, and the airy words are laced with half-veiled entendres and sugared metaphors that his companion is wholly aware of, such an intelligent one. The youngest Eve, the most susceptible. Barely ripe: still small and bitter but _oh,_ such a temptation. A forbidden fruit in her own right.

 _No, he had not missed the lustful glances. The morbid curiosity. Two things that distinguished both their races over animals, curiosity and adaptability. Why else had she approached the King of Kaiju himself, not so long ago?_

And yet…

 _It was time to offer this Eve an Apple._

The soon-to-be Queen smiles faintly—a teasing tweak of pert lips— and leans forward, her flesh colored by a watercolor wash of pastel pink. For a moment, he curls close: blond hair brushing playfully against cheeks, hands weaving through strands of grass-colored silk. She cuddles, as if trying to physically absorb all of the demon's unearthly beauty, all of his vice-fused promises. And as the King leans closer (a small back cushioned by fallen leaves, intertwined legs tangled in the roots of the apple tree) the woman pauses. She breathes in, breathes out; breathes in, breathes out.

 _Already on the precipice, just waiting for a push— a taste— a beautiful, dangling, tempting piece of fruit…_

"And rotting apples smell the sweetest," the lady murmurs after a pause, lowered lashes lifting enough to show brown slits of laughing eyes. She smirks, condescendence in her lilting words. "But I am above partaking in _rotten food_."

 _The serpent freezes_.

The apple falls.

So this is how it will be. Very well, very well. He has always liked challenges, after all.

Crimson leaves fall and die, giving way to white coldness and freezing water –he had never seen snow, not even when he was outside, and decides quite suddenly that he abhors it. What had been the apple tree now stands bare, not a single leaf or fruit in sight. Hibernating, he would call it, and chuckles at the absurdity of his thoughts.

He looks again at who has been his companion for months, who is quiver-shiver-trembling and rosy-cheeked because of the cold. Brown eyes crinkle, dark among all the pristine glacial weather around them. There is something in her glove-covered hands.

She tosses it to him, and he catches it without having to move his eyes from her.

"Is this a joke?" he inquires, half-serious. There is something hot burning inside him, and it is not fire. He squashes it back down, more than unwilling to get angry with her.

Wood-colored eyes widen impishly, and he is at a loss of words, staring at the apple in his hands.

Well.

This was the most enjoyable game he had ever played. Except, somewhere along the line it did not feel like a game anymore.

Somewhere along the line, the serpent transformed into Adam.

They parted ways soon after –but not before both apples had been devoured, and one of its seeds began to grow.

When Adam goes back, he finds no Eve anywhere. Instead, he looks at the child in front of him, into his (brown) eyes, recognizes his (blond) traits and hers.

There is no Eve anywhere. Instead, he finds a not-yet-grown butterfly.

The first time, he takes care of being civil, even caring towards his offspring –he'd be more inclined to eat the Apple if he was contented, after all.

Butterflies are fickle things. It does not work, and he leaves after painting red what had once being unblemished skin.

Belatedly, he realizes he has stunted the boy's wings in the process, but why would that matter?

The second time, the butterfly flies away a mere two days after he retrieved it. The demon had not realized he had shortened his lifespan. Or that this particular insect came with a pair.

The third time, it is guaranteed that he would succeed. There was nothing tying the boy down. So he offered this butterfly (Eve? Adamson? Eveson?) an apple, like he had so many times before, with different intentions.

The child backs away, swats it aside, wants to forget. Once again, he is denied.

Adam morphs back into the serpent.

 _This time, there is red._

Red eyes, red fruit, red swirling in a sudden rush of wind and movement and _no_ , the demon will not be denied again—not after all this, not after so long. He will not be refused by a stupid _child_ who thinks himself better, _more_ than he is.

 _He will wrap himself around the boy, tighter and tighter and tighter. His tail will constrict around his throat; he won't be able to breathe._

How is that possible? He had tempted him. He had lured him. He had offered him the apple. And no one denies him— no one resists. Lest of all him, he has no right. How _dare_ he—?

 _And as he struggles, the demon will place the apple in his mouth…_

The boy wants this, but does not want this, would be fine without this, and it does not make any sense. Because this is what the demon knows, this is how he works, and suddenly things are different, and this time it has _infuriated_ him. Why? Why does it matter? Why did the child's refusal stun him, goad him, fill him with so much rage?

 _He will make him chew. Make him swallow._

An eye for an eye. A life for a life. A butterfly for an Eve.

 _Yes, if it comes to that…_

Does he simply want what he cannot have?

 _The forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest…_

Eve cries out, and a sudden spurt of red coats the blanket of grey rocks.

 _The serpent will_ force _him to eat._

* * *

Valentine woke up with a fire beneath his skin and the taste of apples in his mouth.

All day the sun had been pouring down upon the roof, and the little room was like an oven for heat. He didn't mind that one bit...well, not until now, The twin beds were a short distance away of one another. A carpet graying with decades of filth placed between the right of the boy's bed was a meanly proportioned window layered in aging mold and dust, covered by twenty something year old net curtains swaying mysteriously in the shadows. Draws were overflowing with moth eaten clothes and beding thriving with maggots and grime... well that was until they had acquired new ones, when it seemed evident they would be staying there, for a while at the very least. Dirt encrusted beige wallpaper was peeling of the wall, the windows had not been raised. A big fly was buzzing angrily at one of them now, up and down, up and down, trying to get out.

Lea had been drawing on one of the two tattered notebooks he had stolen. It wasn't a luxury, not for her, but a necessity (he had seen her painting visions with her blood and he screamed oh how he screamed).

She looked up when Vale stumbled out of bed, eyes trying to stay closed and panting a bit. Alarms blared in her head, and was about to tell him that it was alright, she didn't need to train her magic anyway, when he spoke. And it was like he had read her mind, a faint feeling of determination got through their connection, and Lea knew it was pointless to argue with him when he was so focused on making his sister know something that she truly had to learn.

"I feel… I feel…"

"What, Vale? What do you feel?"

"Like I'm walking through water, but more like I'm… Fighting something. Like I have to fight to go forward and everything's twice as hard as it should be. I wasn't planning to write tonight because I want to go to sleep so badly."

"Then why write?"

"I had to. I just had to."

Her breathing became uneven. "What do you mean, you had to? Were you forced?"

"I just _knew_ I had to. I couldn't go upstairs and - I don't know why, my head hurts. I'm so hot. I have a fever."

The girl peered down at the boy's own notebook, which had been sprawled on his lap as sleep claimed him. "But your writing is so quick. So strong. This doesn't seem to be a fight."

"I don't know why. But I'm sweaty. It's so hot. I'm too near a fire. I want to go downstairs."

Lea knew what was happening, and fought herself, her innate fear over something life-threatening battled with her loyalty to her youngest older brother. "Vale, you're half-Kaiju. You're not supposed to feel hot near fire! The last times you got sick…"

The boy's face got paler than white. He kneeled down to her level and grabbed her shoulders, so suddenly that she jumped.

"Tonight, sleep in another room!" Vale hissed, eyes desperate. "And lock the door while you're at it!"

"What? I-"

"And promise me no matter what, _no matter what happens_ , you won't come out!" Vale went from white to grey.

"Brother, I-"

"Promise me, Lea!" Vale hissed, completely panicked. Lea was afraid he was going to fall over.

"All right, I promise!" the girl cried, alarmed.

As soon as those words left her mouth, Valentine relaxed completely, becoming almost pliant under the vow he felt in his bones. "Good. Now, shall we?" he asked as if those few minutes never happened. As if Lea didn't feel the ache from where his claws had pierced the skin. As if Lea didn't know her brother could be gone at any moment and a monster would be in her place.

 _He must be fighting pretty hard if he didn't notice he hurt me._

 _But he released me. That has to count for something._

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." the blond boy answered, sitting on the bed once again.

But, she'd know when her brother was gone. "...Okay."

Tentatively, Lea reached out, testing the boundaries of Vale's mind, feeling the current of his thoughts humming behind purposefully-weakened walls. Then, gently, she reached in. She got words, deeper feelings, sometimes full thoughts. "Is that alright?"

"It's background noise, so to speak. That's listening passively to someone's mental landscape, but to delve deeper, you need to search less... meekly. Too overt, and the subject will notice your presence, but too cautious, and you'll see superficial surface thoughts."

The redhead nodded.

"Concentrate. Harder than you have ever concentrated. You must feel your magic working. You must imagine it hovering in the air, waiting your intent. You must see it in perfect detail, forgetting nothing." He murmured, voice soft and firm and _changing_. "You must invest it with the power to work on its own; that power must come from… you. You must awaken it to do your bidding. Harness your power, to focus it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Valentine."

"The charm is but the conduit. No magic exists without power. Your power. Your command." The voice was now sharp, and growing sharper still. His eyes were closed. Her eyes were beginning to glaze over.

"Yes, Valentine."

"Now open your mind. Concentrate. Go deeper than your mind has been before. Are you prepared?"

"Yes."

"Do you under **stand me?"**

"I understand you."

A smirk.

 **"Good."**

Valentine was back before Lea even realized what was amiss.

* * *

"Do you even know how to drive this thing?!"

"Normally, I'd lie and say yes, but considering I almost flew us into that building, I'll assume you know the answer." Richards answered amicably.

When she woke up in the morning, Marie White nee Smith didn't expect at any moment that she'd be basically kidnapped, unborn child and husband in tow. She didn't expect her kidnappers to be agents of MEGTAF, why would she want or have any kind of contact with them?

"You better tell us exactly why and where you're taking us." Julian growls out from the seat beside her. He was trying his best not to let his temper loose, she could tell. Marie rubbed her belly carefully, knowing this...this jet thing couldn't possibly be good for the baby. Or her stress levels.

"Your middle child is the son of the King of the Kaiju-"

"Tell me something I don't know already." Marie spat, interrupting him as Julian gave her a look that said 'let him talk'. The man in front of them arranged the jet to be in autopilot (thank God!) and turned fully to them, a strange smile on his lips.

"Ah, that's a dangerous statement, for there are a great many things that you don't know, and even more that should be kept secret." his smile widened.

"You're annoyingly cryptic, Richards."

"Why, thank you. I try."

"What do you want with us?" Marie asked. She tried her best not to add 'you MEGTAF scum' at the end of her question. She almost failed. "Why did you kidnap us?"

Richards didn't answer.

Marie kept a hand on her belly. If he wasn't going to answer, then fine. So be it. She'd figure it out herself, no matter how hard that would be.

Turns out, she didn't have to. Richards answered her.

"I was hoping to make a contract with you."

Marie glared at him even more, and she could see her husband doing the same.

Finally, she asked cautiously, "What kind of contract?"

"How about this? We can locate all of you to a safe place, a new home, jobs, everything you need will be covered by us. In return, we'll have the boy for check-ups and such a few times a month."

"Be realistic," the man continued when that got no response out of either of them. "How long do you think you can continue living in that cheap hotel? Or, if push comes to shove, in Rachel Damian's house? In case you haven't noticed, you are unemployed right now, and with a kid on the way... We are busy right now considering the attacks, and I would like this to be resolved as smoothly as possible."

Marie balled her hands into fists as she listened to the explanation. Julian's glare had lost a lot of his bite, though it still retained bitterness as he glared like Death itself at the now-smirking man.

"Do we have a deal?"

* * *

Therapy was bullshit, it was _all_ bullshit and Isabel couldn't sleep as she counted the stars her parents had put on her ceiling, that they had put on _everyone's_ ceilings, apparently. At some point, when she was lying awake in nothing but her pajama and socks and flicking the room's light on, she picked up a sharpie and began to connect the stars.

There was a bright, big sun, a sun as bright as Lea's smile and a star as bright as Vale's eyes and Isabel connected those two. The latter connected to another spiky star, a star as sharp as Matt's logic, and it was all so cliché and dumb and stupid and Isabel _knew_ it was dumb and stupid, but you know what? She'd gone through hell and back, she could reflect stupid nonsensical imagery in the plastic stars on her ceiling if she wanted to.

Kenny's star is small, in the corner, far away from most other stars. It connected to her own three-pointed star, which in turn connected with the others.

Darren's star has many lines protruding from it, but none of them make any connections.

Her rest was peaceful, somewhat, that night.

* * *

In all the months they had been travelling, Lea's world experienced a lot of changes in color. Not only yellow and purple of fear and anxiety, but so many more as they got even closer.

And then–and then–her world became parakeet, became blazing and there was a confidence that seems out of place as she leapt for the first time and tried to see the power of her very own.

She crashed into chartreuse, into gold and everything about her seemed to readjust.

Later that day when the world is going wrong and all she's seeing is red because Vale is red and red is more powerful than yellow–

–she was grounded when she stared up into brown eyes, the pressure on her upper arms reassuring and his soul touching hers saying _trust me_.

Her world is red and sweet as Vale laid close to her to tell her stories from ancient days past.

Her world is silver and bright as they are a bit closer to her family.

Her world is marigold and warm as Vale hugs her tight, dragging her to confess all secrets of the heart.

Lea's world is gorgeous and full of color and she's never been happier.

There are taffies in the sunsets as she and Vale trapeze over the newest town. Blues fade into mauve and soon deep indigo as it becomes night and she smiles, her heart feeling full and her soul feeling light.

Green eyes blink, happy and content as the sun starts to descend...

"Why are the Kaiju always fighting?" was the question the younger had asked her brother. He was deep in thought for a minute before answering, fair hair getting into his eyes for a moment before being swept away by a clawed hand.

"Not all of them are always fighting, you know? There are civilians too. If you truly wish to ascent in rank, what more effective method than a battle to the death? That's the way to gain status in there. And, as having at least a bit of ambition is something that you are bound to have, demonstrate kindness in battle is akin to madness." he answered smoothly as they carelessly walked on top of the building.

Well, as long as every issue was within a clan's side, Lea supposed it made sense. There was the definite King of the Kaiju, and then there were the leaders of the various clans. Kaiju clans didn't recognize states or countries as Lea knew them. Valentine had told her Kaiju drew their own boundaries, and each clan had what would be considered its homeland. As it was, they rarely interfered in another clan's business.

"I will prove them wrong." Lea swore. "Kindness is not madness. I _know_ it."

A soft chuckle in the darkness broke her determined stance as a figure stepped out of the shadows. "Talking to yourself _is_ a sign of madness, my child." A towering woman, hunched and wild-eyed—a cross between man and hellish monster. The mark across her eye stood out, livid on his pale, matted skin. "I would know." She added, grinning and abruptly holding out a clawed hand.

Lea was torn between tensing and accepting the handshake, but a curt bow on Vale's end had her imitating him. She observed the newcomers for a moment. A woman with green hair and yellow eyes, two males, one with white hair and lime eyes and other with black hair and purple eyes. She felt a trickle of amusement coming from Valentine as he observed the purple-eyed male. Did he know him from before?

"You reek of humans." The green-haired one said in disgust.

"So do you." Valentine replied, unfazed. "Being around humans for too long will do that to your scent."

The green haired girl glanced at Lea, then back at the boy. "Yare na noku?"

"Seyra na mekshisukai nei'il Korame." the blond replied smoothly said. "Seyra na Āgatêraka. Seyra yåtera Valentine."

All this sounded like gibberish to Lea, though she could make out a few changes from the way her brother usually talked. For example, there was no 'Ei' anywhere. Did Kaiju have more than one way of saying 'I'?

"Ladorn," the woman gestured to herself. "Nitche." she gestured to the white-haired male. "Kajeigh." and finally to the purple-eyed one, who was eyeing the boy with an evergrowing smirk.

"Takaida na bedrasha, Katanate." the man with purple eyes declared, and Lea didn't know what was said but judging by Vale's face something had gone dreadfully wrong.

What was said next, Lea for the life of her couldn't even decipher the words, but at those words Valentine's entire stance changed. Lea's brother snarled, deep and menacing, his lips pulling back to show his long teeth. Every being in the vicinity froze for a moment, and even Lea's heartbeat jumped.

"Yi na fuutago!" he roared, eyes flaming and sitching to English seemingly without realizing it. "Touch her and I swear I'll kill you myself!"

The woman had jumped at the sudden change in volume. She saw a triumphant spark flare in Vale's eyes, and knew he took pleasure in how intimidating others found him. The boy grinned broadly, almost gloatingly, but his smile died in the next instant.

The purple-eyed had stepped up and snarled in response, guttural and rumbling.

Lea could tell instantly it was not a common growl. It reached that same deep, primitive part of the brain that her brother had touched, but while Vale's had merely brushed it, the Kaiju's snarl seemed to reach every flight instinct the mind possessed and light them up like neon signs.

Valentine had looked intimidating standing alone, but next to the other he looked skinny, underfed...weak.

Lea remembered what her brother had told her, and backed away. They were going to fight, weren't they? The other Kaiju was one of the ones that fought all the time, wasn't he?

They had lunged in an odd fashion; the swift rush that curved just slightly, their legs coming off the ground at the very last second as they tried to gain height on their foe. They met chest to chest, the Kaiju's solid, heavier build rocking Vale back on his heels. He recovered swiftly, of course – he was accustomed to physical fights – and their heads twisted like snakes, teeth flashing, each seeking the vulnerable flesh of the other's neck.

They hit almost in perfect unison, teeth closing in the thick folds of skin that protected their throats. Kaiju and half-Kaiju braced their feet, each trying to use the grip on the other's throat to toss their enemy aside. It was contest of pure strength, and as the muscles in Vale's neck corded and bulged beneath orange scales and the telltale smoke became even more pronounced, Lea knew who the winner would be.

As expected, a rush of flame made the Kaiju back away, his teeth ripping through the other's flesh as he slid out from under the smaller one. But where wild animals would have retreated and tried to rush again, Vale and the other Kaiju were conscious of the free fall that would happen if they slid out and didn't back away, snapping at each other's faces so quickly Lea could barely track their movements. Vale reared up and dropped the full weight of his body against the Kaiju, the momentum making them fall backwards as the child made use of his claws at an almost frantic pace, scratching deep crimson gashes on the other's back and chest.

Flame and blood mixed together as they fought, and as they got themselves further into the building, Lea's desperation grew until she saw green.

Green, green because those creatures just appeared and they were about to hurt him and she was not going to allow it. She tapped in her barely-trained magic, let it consume her, let it envelope her.

"You're about to regret ever threatening to harm my brother."

The world is white with power, the world is-

Carmine, the world is carmine because that's all she can see as she doubles over and red stains the ground.

* * *

The walls had long since crumbled and in their place stood thick beams of wall, blackened and charred from where the flames had licked at them. The ruins were still smoking and he could see the faintest glow of embers as he maneuvered around the creaking threshold. Black dust hung in the air and invaded his lungs as he walked around the building. Nothing had escaped the fire, glass littered the floor where the windows had broken and the metal base of the grand chandelier lay blackened and twisted on the ground.

He steps out of said room, intending to head to the roof, when he sees the hall littered with...ash? Piles of white-hot ash and dying embers dirtied the entire floor.

Hmm. Darren is definitely sure he's onto something. Why else would he leave his travelling companions, who were in the middle of creating chaos in the city, one of them between a river and a building, the others nowhere in sight? (or so they had told him). He likes a bit of destruction every once in a while, right?

...Right?

Of course, his hunch turns out to be correct.

Red hair. Yellow hair. In between said building and the river.

Green energy, magic leaving her. Eyes glowing.

"You're about to regret ever threatening to harm my brother."

What he could only describe as an explosion, the shock-wave making the building to start to crumble, the Kaiju to stagger back.

Yellow hair in the water, for a second. It sank down. It didn't resurface.

He sighed.

He'd have to play the knight in shining armor again, wouldn't he?

* * *

 **FINALLY the story is moving forwards a bit! A special thanks to all the ones that still are reading this story! (I'm talking to you Nick. Hi)**

 **Kaiju language:**

 **Yare: Interrogative pronoun, meaning 'who'**

 **Na: Needs not a definition of gender or how many people. Verb 'to be'**

 **Noku: You**

 ***Meaning this: "Yare na noku?"Means: Who are you?**

 **Nei'il: 'Of', possessive adjective. Can be used to mean 'of mine' 'of his'**

 **Korame: King**

 **Āgatêraka: Fireborn, one of the prominent Kaiju subspecies**

 **Yåtera: Name. Used when introducing oneself**

 **Mekshisukai: Servant**

 ***Therefore, Vale's lines are: "Seyra na mekshisukai nei'il Korame. Seyra na Āgatêraka. Seyra yåtera Valentine." I am a servant of the King. I am a Fireborn. My name is Valentine. *So here he was trying to convince the others he was of a lower rank, as to not arise suspicions... Perhaps it would've worked but there was someone who knew Vale beforehand.**

 **Takaida: An _extremely_ insulting word for 'you'.**

 **Bedrasha: Lie or Liar**

 **Katanate: Prince**

 ***Therefore, the line: "Takiada na bedrasha, Katanate," becomes You are lying, prince/you are a lying prince.**

 **Yi: Her/she**

 **Fuutago: Little/younger sister**

 **Therefore, the line "Yi na fuutago!"becomes She is my younger sister**

 ****Lea's confusion over the prononuns make sense. In case you haven't noticed, all the time Valentine talks, he uses 'Ei' and in this occasion he uses 'Seyra'**

 **Ei: Widespread way of saying 'I'. Literally "I, a non-threatening person."**

 **Seyra: 'This humble person'. Translated, it becomes something like 'your loyal servant'**

 **Well enough grammar lessons for you! Review please!**

 **H. E. B.**


	7. Musing

Flashes of yellow, orange and blue, rushing in on her, swirling rapidly around her mind, creating shadows, pictures, illusions that flared up in vivid color only to be swept away by a large wave of green.

The world ended in green for a moment. At least, that's how Lea perceived it as.

After it, she stood alone in an almost-collapsing building. With a whispered 'torri' she was out of there. The explosion hadn't affected her. An explosion, as the word implies, focused its power outwards. And Lea hadn't been in any harm.

The epicenter.

And now she was alone, a nine-year-old who had created an explosion out of rage and who couldn't find her brother. She couldnt see him anywhere -not in the building, not in the water below, not among the green-tinted flames.

For a second, a little blink of a second, she thought he was just- gone. Then she remembered, remembered she was still breathing, her heart beating, (and that meant so was he) and she felt relief.

The world faded to black soon after.

* * *

Seeing an explosion is entire worlds apart from experiencing one.

For one, there was the pain. Which was a strange mixture of excruciating—breathing ash and fire, burning the lungs, tissue damage, pain, agony like fireworks every time he closed his eyes, every movement like ice shards stabbing at his heart—and numbing. He couldn't feel a lot of his body, disorientation clouding his mind. Water covered his eyes and he felt like he was drowning.

 _—he was drowning though, not just an illusion—_

There was something rather familiar about the pressure and the warmth that blanketed his body. It was very warm, his heart, thrumming under his ribs as he fought—for breath, movement, and life—to see the stars again.

…

The odd fact about the astonishing peculiarity known as death; it was silent as it stole his life away. The desperation for life was what was loud; the thrashing arms, the screaming lungs, the burning desire to feel another spark of pain—all of those basic carnal desires _begging_ the mind to keep fighting for life.

But death itself is quiet. Like water, it floods the body until nothing but an empty shell remains.

In the water, he felt himself drifting. It was funny how, the further down he went into the murky depths, the more his lungs feel like what fire must feel to other people. It set alight to everything; his common sense, his mind, the very nature of his humanity—until all he could feel was the water burning flesh to a crisp and the fire scalding over the scars.

He was drifting.

How delightfully ironic. How incredibly derisive. One of his most peaceful moments was when he dared to kiss Death and tell the tale. And now, a repeated performance. There was no gravity under him, but he was (still) not able to fly. He was just adapting to the environment, like Kaiju are known to do. Could he swim amongst the stars?

He couldn't open his eyes.

It was . . . like he was falling asleep.

It was so peaceful.

So silent.

.

.

.

 _(It's so... lonely.)_

 _._

 _._

 _._

( Once upon a time, a dying star fell into the dark basement of time.

Some eyes become fixated on the lights stuck on the Earth's glass ceilings. Others try to combine the rays of sunshine with the rest of the solar system. Either way, they are always drawn to the stars. Perhaps for the illusion of permanence that they give off? People's gazes—of all kinds—gravitate upwards and drift into a mental oblivion, captivated by the fantasy that, for one moment, everything can be bigger than our small souls and minds, that the words we say and the lights we follow can last forever.

Of course, stars are not immortal beings–it is funny to think of them as "alive", for they are technically nothing but burning gas stuck in an airless void. And yet, do you not find it wonderful that they can indeed live forever, depending on what angle you look at them from in this ever-expanding universe of inverted expectations?

As with everything, the definitions of both life and death is completely dependent on personal, conscious perspective.

You are but a falling, dying star, whose light is dimmed as your lungs become suffocated by temporal waters. Petrified by who you are and who you have become…

 _So it is time for you to wake up. )_

* * *

 _I know you want to leave but, friend, please, don't take your life away from me._

 _("But…")_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _You need to wake up now, Vale._

 _("...I don't know…")_

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 _YOU NEED TO WAKE UP VALENTINE._

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 _("THEN STOP WITH THE STORIES AND TELL ME HOW TO LIVE!")_

His arms moved like a marionette caught on its own strings, be them controlled by fate's design or his own making, the one thing they couldn't stop him from doing is _moving._

His body thrashed, water clogging his ears and murmuring his movements into one incoherent underwater splash—

 _Oh, God, where is the air?_

 **S** top and be quiet, your fingers cannot claw water but dear _stars_ do they try—

 **N** o, no, little prince, water is not glass, it does not need to be _shattered,_ only breached—

A cool voice breached his thoughts, and he felt himself being carried, and the voice's body, his hands were not spears, they were _cups,_ and Vale watched as those palms cupped instead of clawed and _caressed_ the water, not fought _against_ it—

Vale's legs and arms synchronized with the boy's—he carried on, they _danced_ within the waters, and something **—** _something_ in this world must feel sorry enough for him to give him _mercy_ _—_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _(Just a child, you learned that nobody cares what you have to say_ ** _—_** _  
__**"Tell me a story, little prince.")**_

His hand reached upwards—

.

 _(Just a child, you learned to never expect kindness_ ** _—_** _  
__**"You're about to regret ever threatening to harm my brother.")**_

He felt the cold air settle on his skin—

Lifting his head out of the water, he gasped—

 _(Just barely a teenager, you learned that all is lost_ ** _—_** _  
__**"You need to wake up.")**_

Gulping the freezing air and feeling it freeze over his windpipe into his lungs—

.

 _ **And he BREATHED.**_

.

Something solid, finally- he felt, dimly, the solidness of the ground beneath his fingers and knees as they arrived to shore. He felt everything at once and felt numb, not exactly aware of what was happening.

Warmth disappeared and a chill overtook his body. The stars were absolutely beautiful, but oh, they were falling.

—parts of the building collapsing, frayed wires shooting off sparks and broken glass everywhere—

Fires burned everywhere—around him, inside him—and they threw an eclectic lighting over the scene. Chaos and destruction and falling stars.

"The end of the world," he mumbled, voice faint and tired.

"Not quite, Valentine," a voice rasped next to him—statement or a promise?—but he was long gone by then.

* * *

Before he opened his eyes, he flew in a sky of blood and flame. When he opened his eyes, sight eluded him.

In his mind, he was still drowning and the waters had turned blood red.

 _—Lea's blood—_

Was it any surprise that when he woke up beside his savior, he was screaming?

A hand over his mouth quickly fixed that problem, a frantic 'Shh!" from behind.

"You recover quickly, don't you?" the one behind him asked as Vale attempted to pry the hand over his mouth away. One second. He knew that voice.

Turning his head around, his suspicions were confirmed. Brown hair, steel for eyes. the hand was removed from his mouth.

"How did you find me?"

Darren Wakeman smiled thinly. His eyes were soft. "Only a blind man could've missed the damage your sister caused, little prince. The others are gone, I think they thought you dead. Lea is okay, she just passed out." he bulldozed over Vale's next statement. "She used a bit too much magic at once. She'll be fine." he looked around yet again, at the still-fading green-tinted everything. "We should get moving."

His heart was pounding, pounding, just like his head. "Why?"

Darren rolled his eyes, and there's one for normalcy. "There were some corpses hidden there. People are bound to get suspicious when they find third-degree rotting bodies, you know."

 **"** The heck is "third-degree rotting"? Did you mix your decomposition up with _burns_?" a smirk found its way across his face. It was a special talent of Vale's that he could still make himself sound knowledgeable when he was feeling like absolute crap. Darren made a face, and for a second they've got a little piece of normality, and Vale had to use it up, had to scorch it like a fresh candlewick.

* * *

They were fine. They had gone back to their temporary residence. Lea was still passed out on the couch, and Vale had found himself alone with Darren. He had a million questions he wanted answered, but they withered and died before the first wisps of smoke left his mouth. For now, anyway.

"I'll sit here," Darren proffered stolidly, sitting on the floor with determination. "And you can talk if you want."

Vale found himself crashing. He wasn't going to let his guard down around Lea, wasn't going to show the rough and raw edges.

Wasn't going to sit down and count the scars he could see and the ones he couldn't.

He jerked his foot reflexively—his own healing couldn't take away _phantom_ pain, irrational hurts—and his hands were shaking.

"The world is crashing down, me and my sister don't have a home anymore... I don't want to die, just yet." Valentine answered, shifting on the floor as to get more comfortable. He seemed quite eager to get that bit of information in the open. "I'm nearly fourteen years old, I haven't had a decent snog in my life, I haven't _shagged_ anyone in my life, hell I haven't even gotten _drunk_. Not even once," he looked up. "I haven't visited other countries, and I'd really like to see a tropical beach even if just once. I haven't learned another language – our language doesn't count. The only instrument I know how to play was the old piano at home…"

"Okay, okay, I get your point," Darren said, a bit irritated.

"If it were up to me, if I could make sure he will never attack me, I would let the war keep going. Wouldn't interfere. It's not my business. They will get over it." But Vale wouldn't get over it. He'd just tuck it away into the box that keeps all those violations, the times when his body wasn't his and his mind wasn't his and sometimes the pain was all he knew.

Darren raised his eyebrow in return. "You really think you could?" he asked, scathingly. "Could you, really? Heroics are the base code of your whole being, little prince. If your father would stop actively hunting you down - which I very much doubt he will - you'd do the same, and just go on with your life, while he conquers the Americas, a great part of Europe and possibly Australia and Africa? You could really sit back, and do nothing?" He snorted. "I rather doubt it."

"Actually, I probably could," Vale answered, sounding a little offended. "Heroics are not the base code of my being. That's cowardice and witty humor and possessiveness," he said, now defensive. "And there's nothing wrong with being a coward," he added, when the older teen opened his mouth. "Being a coward keeps you alive."

"Does it, now?"

"Yes!" the prince growled, shuddering.

Darren would have argued, but at that moment Vale let out a slightly demented laugh. He shuddered again, and looked around the house. He began speaking, in hushed tones, as if the shadows on the walls could hear them.

"I can feel him next to me, sometimes. Crouching over me, waiting. And he can't get at me, doesn't want to get at me yet. He has humiliated me, but I humiliated him twice over, with me escaping. There were months of my life, Darren, that my throat never stopped burning… And my position. I'm not so stupid to think that no one will want to come after me, to have the second most-wanted position in the Kaiju hierarchy.

I'm scared of going back; but more of the fact he has threatened to take the ones I love, over and over again, because I cannot die yet. But I never minded dying, not really. I would have traded my life for any one of theirs. I thought I was being clever by hiding, never seeking him out. But here I am, with you and Lea, none the wiser to this- this _thing_ that follows me..."

His hushed rambling came to a halt, as the hybrid put his hands over his face in an utterly defeated gesture. Darren, his brain working overtime, understood the boy's dilemma.

He didn't want to leave, but he was terrified that somehow his mere presence was going to bring about a premature end to both. An insane notion, but something in the back of Darren's mind hummed in sympathy. Out of the corner of his eye he perceived the imagined dark tunnels underneath his mind, and the horrible presence that followed him.

"That's no way to go about things," Darren said, trying to hide his uncertainty with a confident tone. "You never know, maybe he's finally decided to let you off the hook. Given you up as a bad job? Or wait till the war is more advanced."

Valentine chuckled humorlessly. Darren noted that the younger one's hands were shaking. He must have really believed this theory, that death was quite literally crouching over his shoulder, willing to strike at any and all that came too close to the boy.

"Maybe," Vale finally conceded, "you're still alive, I guess. My family too… Lord, I'm truly, dreadfully selfish. I've gotten out of bed and thought of leaving here a dozen times," the prince said, and Darren's heart caught in his throat, "and every time I set out to go, I just couldn't do it."

Right. That, wasn't good.

He wanted to talk Vale out of these notions, and reaffirm that selfishness was, in his case, an admirable trait that he ought to cultivate. However, he really felt that Lea had already covered all the major points in the months they were alone.

"You should listen to your sister more. She had a far more accurate assessment of your situation, and whether people dying has any correlation to your existence." Darren said.

The silence hung heavily between them, punctuated between Lea's soft breathing.

"So...what would you kill for?" Vale couldn't resist asking, changing the subject. "Hypothetically speaking, I mean."

Darren's head tilted to one side, and regarded Valentine with an impenetrable look in his dark eyes. "If someone tortured or murdered my lover, or my children, or one of my family. And I do speak of murder, not simply killing – if a Kaiju falls in battle...no vendettas spring from that. We can often be philosophical about our kind's deaths, simply because most of us live so long in any case. But in my case, the mortals I love? No."

"I will get so few years with those I care about as it is," Darren went on. "That if your already short lives are made shorter by sheer malice…"

"You will become angry; become jealous of the time you didn't have...you will become vengeful." Vale finished for him, eyes zeroed on a faraway spot.

The brunet sighed as Vale stretched his other wing. "If you were struck down, little prince, if you were murdered on the streets of this city you call your passing home...I would take up the vendetta for you."

"What?" Vale snapped, practically bristling and growling with alarm. " _No!_ No one is going on a quest for vengeance for me – I'm not messing up anyone's life like that."

"Why not?" Darren asked, and he sounded genuinely curious. "If someone murders you, they're clearly someone who needs to be removed from society, wouldn't you agree?"

"No. I wouldn't want you to become that."

He sighed and let his head fall back on the floor. There are always people who suffer more. Valentine White hasn't had a great couple of years, but he has a great family. That's more than most.

It makes things _better_ , even if it cannot make them _good_.

* * *

 **Fūtako: Older sister**

 **Fūtago: Younger sister**

 **Mūtako: Older brother**

 **Mū** **tago: Little brother**


End file.
